Something Wicked This Way Comes
by GilFeir
Summary: Legolas and Aragorn arrive in Mirkwood and there is so much to see and learn that Aragorn nearly forgets the danger that lurks behind every tree. And then something so wicked and horrible happens that it could shatter the future of Legolas and Aragorn.
1. Entering Mirkwood

**Title: ****Something wicked this way comes**

**Author:** Gil Feir

**Rating:** M (for later chapters)

**Genre:** Slash. What else?

**Warning:** Much smut and slash, some quite explicit scenes. Non-con.

**Disclaimer:** Same old, same old.

**Summary:** Legolas and Aragorn finally arrive in Mirkwood and there is so much to see and learn that Aragorn nearly forgets the danger that lurks behind every tree. And then something so wicked and horrible happens that it could shatter the future of Legolas and Aragorn.

**A/N 1:** This is the sequel to An Autumn's Tale. It was intendes as the first part of another series of stories, but my muse left me, so this story is (sadly enough) the end of this series. That is, until my muse finds me again. The reading order is: **A winter's tale**, **A spring's tale**, **A summer's tale** and **An autumn's tale**, **Something wicked this way comes**.

g Hope you enjoy it.

**A/N 2:** I know you are all waiting for good old Lithdal to show up. Well, your wish shall be granted soon. He will play a major part in this story, although he appears rather late.

Chapter 1: Entering Mirkwood

They had entered the Forest of Mirkwood four days ago, and still Aragorn could not take his eyes away from the mighty trees that rose all around him. To their left, the Forest River gurgled merrily in its bed of white stones. While the river was not wider than a man was tall, its current was strong and the river deep. Boulders and rocks were hidden under the surface, creating eddies and splashing waves. Legolas had explained that the Forest River originated somewhere in the Ered Mithrin, the Grey Mountains. It ran South for many miles before it entered Mirkwood, where it turned East, past the Home of the Wood-elves and then out into the Long Lake, where the town Esgaroth had been rebuild after the fall of the dragon Smaug. There the waters of the Forest River joined the water of the River Running, and together they ran South into the Sea of Rhûn, where their journey ended. Legolas had told this so passionately, that Aragorn had thought for a moment that Legolas was speaking of two lovers and not rivers. In a way, it was a nice thought, for the two rivers rested together for all eternity in the large Sea of Rhûn.

While their journey took the elves Eastwards along the river towards the area that the Wood-elves had made their home, Legolas told them all stories of his home. He seemed to enjoy to point out plants and animals, to entertain Aragorn with lengthy explanations of the cartography of the area and he was especially fond of the history of the Silvans in general and his House in particular.

Aragorn, on his part, was an avid listener. Of course he had been taught in the history of Mirkwood and its inhabitants by his tutors, had been shown pictures of the plants that only grew in this forest, and heard tales of the Wood-elves. But all his tutoring paled in comparison to what he now saw, heard and smelled. Mirkwood was a magical place!

The first thought that had crossed Aragorn's mind upon entering Mirkwood was that the forest was not as dark and foreboding as everyone said it to be. On the contrary! The road that they followed ran alongside the river, and while the trees stood close, their boughs were not dense enough to shut out the light. The branches closed above them like an archway, but there was enough space between the branches to let the sunlight filter through it. Aragorn had heard his brothers saying that riding through Mirkwood was like riding through a dark tunnel. But Aragorn did not think so. Riding through Mirkwood was like riding through a green wonderland.

Soft green grass grew to both sides of the path, speckled with tiny flowers that blossomed white and red. Mushrooms grew on the barks of the trees and near the road. Birds and smaller animals seemed to be everywhere, and once Aragorn thought he even saw a large buck. Not once did he have the feeling of being watched by something invisible, and when the fourth day of their journey ended and they made camp at the side of the road, he began to think that his brothers had exaggerated and that their stories had been nothing but fairy tales to scare him. No, in his opinion, what he had seen of Mirkwood so far was not scary at all. It was fascinating. The only thing that dimmed his happiness of finally having reached the old forest of the Wood-elves was his slow recovery.

Even so many days after having been rescued from the orcs, he was too weak to ride on his own. He had to sit in front of Legolas or one of the other elves, for his dislocated arm and leg made it impossible for him to ride behind. Furthermore, the arrow wound on Legolas's back had not healed yet, and Aragorn knew that it must be painful for Legolas if he rode behind him. He knew that the other elves and especially Legolas did not mind him riding with them, but it was frustrating to say the least. Aragorn was no stranger to pain, but he began to truly hate the fact that his limbs and especially his ribs still hurt quite badly. He was sure, had it not been for the pain dulling tea he drank every day, he would not have been able to ride at all.

To make matters worse, he was still exceedingly weak from the blood loss he had suffered, and so he tired easily. Try as he might, he could not stay awake for longer than a few hours at a time, even though he slept all through the night without taking a single watch. He was a healer and knew that he was lucky to be alive at all, but that did not change his feelings of sheer frustration and helplessness at the matter.

He had been so looking forward to finally journey to Mirkwood! And then he had not only been allowed to go, but Legolas had come with him, too. And now he was here, and he could not enjoy it as he wished to, for his pain and tiredness dulled the wonders he saw. The only bright light in his gloom of misery was that Legolas had barely left his side since he had saved him from the orc camp.

During the day Aragorn mostly rode with Legolas, secure in his strong arms and warmed by the elf's love, and at night Legolas would lay down close beside him, claiming that he only wanted to make sure that nothing evil befell him in the dark. Aragorn had to smile every time the elf's fingers secretly brushed his while they rode, or when Legolas tucked a strand of his dark hair out of his face at night. Deep inside, Aragorn did not care any longer whether the other elves learned of their relationship or not, but he did not know how Legolas thought of the matter, and therefore he kept silent. But, Aragorn had to admit, he was really looking forward to reaching the Palace and to simply be alone with Legolas for a while. Just for an hour, a few minutes…just long enough so that he could look Legolas deep into the eyes and tell him how much he loved him, and how much he thanked him for saving his life.

As it was, they were still at least two days away from the Palace, for their gait was slow due to Aragorn's injuries. At the evening of their fourth day in Mirkwood, they stopped their horses, brushed them down and watered them, then made camp. Legolas told them that he thought it unwise to light a fire, and although none of them felt any threat, they followed his advice. They sat down on the cold ground, leaning back against the mighty trees, and ate cold meat and Lembas. They had run out of dried berries and nuts two days ago. The water from the Forest River tasted strangely salty, but Legolas assured them all that it was clean and of good quality.

When night fell completely and darkness descended on the forest, the temperature dropped drastically. It was close to winter, and while the days were still warm enough to feel comfortable in a cloak, the nights were chilly. Tired and in pain from the long ride, Aragorn soon began to shiver slightly. Since he had lost so much blood, he had felt bouts of extreme cold and trembling, but it had gotten lesser as the days passed. Still, from time to time these bouts returned, making him feel like a sick child. While the elves talked quietly, he leaned his weary body back against a large tree, tightened his cloak around his shoulders and closed his tired eyes. Almost immediately the chatter of his companions became softer and was soon nothing more than a whisper in the background.

But while the voices of the elves dimmed, the voice of the forest seemed to awaken. With his eyes closed and nothing but his hearing for company, Aragorn meant to hear the river gurgling loudly, as if he was sitting directly at its banks, and not a few feet away. There was a soft rustling in the leaves of the tree he was leaning against, maybe some bird or squirrel. And there, to his right and across the path, Aragorn imagined to hear the scurrying of many tiny feet. Perhaps a family of mice or rats was hurrying through the underbrush. A lonely hoot of an owl reached his ears, and Aragorn sighed deeply. Indeed, Mirkwood was a strange place, but certainly not stranger than any of the other places he had been so far.

With the sounds of Mirkwood in his ears, Aragorn soon dozed off. He was woken but an hour later by the strong shivering of his own body. Opening his eyes tiredly, Aragorn blinked a few times, but he saw absolutely nothing. The darkness around him had neither shadows of grey or shades of white like he was used to, and he shifted uncomfortably. That was the only thing his brothers had told him and that had been correct so far, he thought. The nights of Mirkwood were as dark as death.

Slightly unnerved by the complete darkness, Aragorn blinked again and turned his head left and right. He could still hear the sounds of the river, but the forest had gone eerily quiet. He could neither hear scurrying feet anymore, nor the rustle of leaves in the trees…or the quiet voices of his companions. Eyes wide but unseeing, the young man tried to catch the soft sounds of his companions. Surely they had not left him…

A moment later, his ears picked up the sound of rustling material, then soft footsteps that neared his position. A second later, his eyes made out a soft blue and white elvish glow. Smiling weakly, Aragorn waited until Legolas reached his side and crouched down beside him, before he spoke.

"I must have fallen asleep." His voice was soft and scratchy and still groggy from his slumber.

Beside him, Legolas smiled warmly down at him and tilted his head to the side. Even in the dark, Aragorn could easily read the worry in the elf's blue eyes, and his heart constricted. He quickly sat up a bit straighter to show Legolas that he was on the mend, and that there was no need to worry. But instead of reassuring Legolas that he was well, he only increased the elf's worry when he suddenly gasped and grimaced in pain. His leg send a bolt of lighting pain through his thigh, and Aragorn stiffened.

"Easy, Estel." Legolas admonished and leaned closer. "Your body needs rest, lots of it. Do not push what you cannot change."

Bathed in the soft elvish glow of his friend and lover, Aragorn leaned his head wearily back against the tree. There was a note of defeat in his voice when he spoke. "It is just so frustrating, Legolas. Were I an elf, I had already healed."

To his surprise, Legolas's voice was stern when he answered, "Were you an elf, the orcs had killed you on the spot instead of toying with you. Were you an elf, you would be dead now."

"Legolas, I did not mean to sound ungrateful, or to anger you." Aragorn placed his hand on Legolas's and gave it a little squeeze. Why was Legolas so upset? Had he said something wrong? He had thought that Legolas, having been injured himself many times, would understand his feeling of helplessness and grinding frustration. When Legolas sighed and patted his leg absentmindedly, Aragorn inwardly sighed with relief. So Legolas was not angry with him.

"What is it Legolas? You know you can tell me." Aragorn coaxed gently while he tried to ignore his own shivering.

Sitting down and leaning against the tree himself, Legolas shrugged out of his cloak and draped it without a word around the young ranger's shoulders. Grateful for the extra warmth, Aragorn said nothing, and waited for the elf to speak. After a moment, Legolas sighed again, then spoke.

"I just cannot forget the day I almost lost you. The look on your face when you asked me to flee and get help."

His voice was so soft that Aragorn could barely make out the words. He was surprised by Legolas's words, for never before had the elf spoken to him of any of this. After his rescue, Aragorn had been weak and tired. For the first few days he had done nothing more than sleep and recover. After that, he had been too happy and relieved to be alive to think very much about the hours of sheer fear and panic that Legolas must have went through before his rescue. With a shock Aragorn realized that Legolas must have blamed himself for his capture and subsequent torture that led to his near death.

For a long moment, Aragorn was lost in his own thoughts. But then he shook his head to come back to the presence. In the dark, he reached out to grab Legolas's hand. Automatically he entwined their fingers and let his thumb caress the elf's hand.

"Forgive me, Legolas, for not thinking of this sooner. But it just now came to my mind how you must have suffered after the orcs found us. I…" Aragorn faltered, but then went on anyway, "It was so hard to send you away, Legolas. But it was the only way I could think of to safe you. You were injured yourself and would not have been able to help me. And had the orcs caught you, they would have killed you, as you just said. I did not want you to die just because of me. And I knew you would return with help."

Beside him, Legolas listened quietly. When Aragorn stopped speaking, he gave the hand he held a squeeze. "It was a very brave thing you did, Estel. Again, you saved my life. In my mind I know that leaving you was the only way to safe you in the end, but my heart …" Legolas took a deep breath. When he continued his voice was barely above a whisper, "But my heart broke when I turned my back on you, Estel. What if you had been killed? What if we had come too late?"

Reading the fear, agony and most of all blame in Legolas's eyes, Aragorn felt his throat tighten up. His own thoughts returned to the seemingly endless hours he had been in the captivity of the orcs. Had he not thought that they would come too late? That he would die, alone in the hands of orcs, where no one would ever find his body? That he would never again see Legolas's face, hold his hand and hear his heartbeat? A shudder that had nothing to do with the cold and his weakness raced through his body.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Aragorn turned his thoughts away from the past. He was alive. The orcs had not killed him. Legolas was with him, and in but a few days they would reach the safety of Mirkwood Palace. All was well. Turning his bright eyes to look at Legolas, Aragorn gave the hand he held and quick, but strong squeeze.

"Legolas, you rescued me from the orcs, and although I am not healed yet, I am well. Let the past be the past and look to the future."

Smiling, Legolas shook his head. "Such wise words for one so young."

Yawning, Aragorn shrugged, "As you might remember, I grew up in the House of Elrond. Books and manuscripts were my playmates when I was young. Scholars and poets thousands of years old were my teachers. Something had to stick."

Laughing softly, Legolas shifted closer to the young man. "How could I forget? But now, it is late and you should sleep, my friend."

"Aye, I must say that I am quite tired, to be honest."

"Then sleep." Legolas wrapped an arm around Aragorn's shoulders and drew the man closer towards him. Soon, Aragorn's head found Legolas's shoulder, and under the protective eyes of the Prince of Mirkwood he fell asleep. Smiling down on the sleeping man, Legolas hugged him even closer, the need to feel the young human's breathing and warm body against his own nearly overwhelming him.

……………………………………………………

Two days later the small group of elves and one human finally reached the outskirts of the part of the realm of Mirkwood where the Wood-elves lived. Sitting in front of Legolas, his injured arm now in a sling instead of being strapped against his chest, Aragorn was just telling Legolas excitedly of the group of black squirrels he had seen that morning, when their horse rounded a bend in the road, snorting softly. Aragorn stopped his talk in mid sentence, his mouth hanging open slightly.

He did not notice that Legolas gently stopped the horse, as did the other elves of their group, and neither did he notice the amused looks the warriors exchanged. All he had eyes and ears for was the sight before him.

The woods they had been riding through for days and that had bordered the road to both sides, with high dark trees that reminded Aragorn of silent sentinels, now lay wide and flooded by light before them. The road that had been nothing more than dried mud and pebbles, now turned into a cobbled way that wound in and out around slim white trunks of ancient looking beech trees. Wherever Aragorn looked, beeches grew. They stood in clusters or alone, between oaks and firs, but their white trunk shown and glimmered all around.

The river that had been deep but only as wide as a man was tall, suddenly broadened and roared mightily. Frog rush grew at the banks and little flowers clung to the grass that still grew green, despite the white frost that glistered here and there. Aragorn let his gaze travel further down the path in wonder.

There were huts and houses between the trees, with tables and chairs in front of the doors. Ropes and ladders wound their way up the trees, and when Aragorn tilted his head back and gazed upwards, he saw that there were houses built in the boughs of the trees. They were no flets, but real huts, and Aragorn stared, transfixed. Wood-elves clad in green and brown walked easily among the trees, jumping from branch to branch and swinging at ropes that hung between the trees. Elvish women and children used the ropeways that connected the huts in the trees, and while Aragorn watched, a group of elves nimbly climbed a beech tree without so much as the help of a rope or ladder.

So fascinated was he, that Aragorn missed the soft sound of laughter of Legolas. But when the elf kicked his heels into the sides of the horse to gently urge it on, Aragorn snapped out of his transfixed stare. Shaking his head, Aragorn exclaimed, "I thought the elves of Mirkwood lived in caverns!"

Smiling, Legolas shook his head, "We do and we don't." He let go of his protective hold of Aragorn's waist for a moment and gestured around. "The people of the Kingdom of Mirkwood mostly live and hunt in the open woods. As you can see, we have built huts and houses on the ground and in the branches. We love the beech trees most, for their white trunks remind us of the light that still resides in Mirkwood. In times past we used to live near the edges of the woods, from which we could escape at times of need or to hunt. At night we would escape the forest to run over the open lands by moonlight or starlight. But after the coming of men and the destruction of the dragon Smaug, we ever more took to living deeper in the forest and to the gloaming and the dusk."

Hearing a whistful undertone in Legolas's voice, Aragorn was not sure whether he should pry deeper. Before he could make a decision, though, Legolas continued, "But you are correct when you say that we live in caves, for that we do. When we were forced to retreat further North because of the Shadow in the South, and even long before that, when Oropher was still King, we established a home deep in the great caves East of Mirkwood. The King's Halls serve as home and fortress. Many a time we have been forced underground to protect us from evil, but always we have succeeded in pushing it back . Being elves, though, living underground does not suit us for eternity, and so many elves rather live in the woods than in the safe caves."

Aragorn, listening closely to his friend's words, could not help but suddenly feel very young. For all the years that he had known Legolas, the elf had never acted his age of a few hundred years, and more importantly perhaps, Legolas had never spoken in the tone he had just now used. The tone of a young Prince, used to command warriors into battle and burdened by the threat that haunted his people since millennias. Indeed, Aragorn suddenly realized for the first time, that Legolas was not as young as he was. And, that Legolas was a Prince among his people. Of course Aragorn had known that, but in Imladris, Legolas had just been his friend and a guest of his father. Nothing more. Now, things had obviously changed.

This became even more clear when a group of elves jumped lightly from a tree at the side of the road. Aragorn could see that they carried bows and spears and where clad in the deep green of the forest. Had they not moved, he doubted that he would have seen them in the trees at all.

"Hail Prince Legolas Thranduilion! Welcome home!" One of them said and bowed deeply, while the others bowed their heads.

Legolas stopped his horse and nodded his head in greeting, "Well met, Guard. It is good to breathe the air of my homeland again."

Stepping forwards to stand beside Legolas's horse, the guard pointed towards the trees above and behind them, "My watchers saw you enter the forest and a runner told me of your arrival. We have food and drink prepared if you and your company wish to refreshen yourself before continuing on."

'Watchers and runners?' Aragorn thought confused. He had neither seen nor heard anyone since they had crossed the Anduin. How was it possible that they had been shadowed by elves all the time and he had not sensed them? Indeed, he had much to learn about Mirkwood-elves yet.

"We have been on the road for weeks, coming straight from Imladris and over the Misty Mountains." Legolas said, glancing at his companions. "Though I would love to refreshen myself, I think it would be better if we continue on towards my father's Palace. We had a run in with a group of orcs in a forest close to the Mountains, and as you can see we did not escape unscathed."

Aragorn saw the guard shift his eyes from Legolas to his own bandaged arm, then to his face, where Aragorn knew that the bruises were still clearly visible. He shifted uncomfortably under the close scrutiny, but said nothing. He did not know why, but he felt as if it was not his place to say something to this guard.

"My Prince, have you been hurt?" There was concern and anger in the voice of the guard.

"Merely a scratch and it is healing." Legolas answered, and Aragorn frowned. Being hit by an orc arrow, fallen from a horse and chased through a dark forest did not fall under his definition of 'scratch'. Despite his feeling that it was not his place to say something, his sense of protectiveness of Legolas reared its head. He took a breath to say something, but Legolas tightened his grip around his waist for just a moment, and then spoke smoothly, "My companion has been hurt more seriously. I would feel better if my father's healers would take a look at both our injuries soon, just to make sure."

The guard gave Legolas another look, but then nodded his head, "Then I will send another runner to the Palace to announce your arrival, your Highness. But tell me, have the orcs followed you? Is there a need to guard our borders more closely?"

Legolas nodded his head, "The orcs that attacked us are all slain. But I am concerned still, for it was a large group and they were vicious. I will speak with the King about the matter and I would like to send a group of warriors to scout the area. If any groups of travelers pass here to cross the Misty Mountains, they should be warned to not enter the woods at the banks of the Anduin."

Again, the guard nodded, "I will spread the word, my Prince."

"Thank you." Legolas said, and after a few words of farewell, the group of Imladris continued on their way towards the King's Halls.

Wherever they went, the elves greeted the company of rider and especially Legolas. Aragorn got the impression that Legolas was very beloved by his people, and he had to smile at the thought. Legolas had never told him that his people cherished him so much.

On their way through the forest, Aragorn saw not only houses and huts, but a water-mill, a** bakery**, a small forgery, something that resembled a marketplace, wagons and tiny gardens where the elves grew vegetables. Dozens of paths led hither and yonder, and Aragorn heard the elves sing while working and smile at their Prince when he passed. Mirkwood was truly very different from what Aragorn had imagined it to be. But although he saw many wondrous things, he also saw that all elves were armed in one way or another. While many elves carried bows and long knives, others carried spears or swords. The ellyn, too, were armed.

When the sun neared the horizon, the forest became increasingly darker. The light that had filtered through the boughs of the trees like bolts of lightning grew sparse, and also the dwellings of the elves became less frequent. Soon, they were riding through an almost silent forest, with nothing but the broad river rushing to their left.

And then, around another bend in the path, a huge stone bridge suddenly appeared before them. It was made of white stone, with mighty pillars that reached deep into the river. The banks on either side of the river were grassy and filled with weeds, while the mighty beech trees grew so dense here that some of them even grew in the water. And on the other side of the bridge, a huge, colossal rock formation rose into the sky. The white beeches grew to either side of the path and their branches created an archway that closed high above their heads. Torches and lights could be seen in the distance, illuminating a mighty stone gate on the rock's surface. Slowly, the group of riders made their way over the bridge and towards the gate. In the last light of the day, Aragorn saw that the gate was higher than three men were tall. Silver and metal adorned its surface in intricate patterns, and heavily armed guards stood to either side of it. They nodded in greeting to Legolas, their Prince, and let them pass without a word. As soon as the last rider had crossed the threshold, the mighty doors swung close with a clang.

They had entered the Halls of the King of Mirkwood.

To be continued.

A/N: The descriptions of Mirkwood are taken from the hints we get in The Hobbit. The rest is my own imagination.


	2. The King’s Halls

Chapter 2: The King's Halls

The doors to the vast cavern system shut behind them with a mighty clang, shutting out the light of the sinking sun. But it was not dark inside the cavern, as Aragorn had assumed it would be. There was a red light all around them, coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. It was not the red glow of all consuming fire, nor the violent red of burning wood. After their horse had gone a few yards inside, Aragorn saw that the red light was coming from torches that had been stuck into the sides of the cave they were standing in. He looked at the torches, but found no explanation as to their red light. He shook his head at this new wonder and vowed to ask Legolas about this when they had some time to themselves.

A moment later, guards and helpers suddenly appeared in the cave, taking a hold of the reins and speaking softly with the horses to calm the animals. With a sigh, Legolas stretched his back and rolled his head on his neck, "Home, finally." He said, before he swung himself nimbly from his horse, extending a hand to Aragorn to help him down. More slowly and definitely less nimbly and graceful, Aragorn led himself slide from the horse. He grimaced slightly when his leg touched the ground, but said nothing. The pain receded almost immediately, and he knew that it were just his stiff muscles that troubled him now, and not the injury itself.

While the helpers tended to the horses and led them away down a broad tunnel strewn with straw, Legolas guided the group up a small flight of stairs and then down a smaller corridor. While they walked, he explained, "In times now long past, when the elves began their journey to the West, towards the White Shores, there were some that were reluctant to cross the Misty Mountains. So they decided to stay here, in these unruly and uninhabited lands. First, they lived at the banks of the Anduin and they called themselves the Teleri. Those that chose to live in the woods called themselves Silvan, or Wood-elves."

The group rounded a corner, passing by a beautiful carving of stone that pictured the Great Wood that lay just outside the cave doors. Aragorn stared at the carving as he walked and almost missed Legolas's next words, "My forefathers lived in small villages outside in the woods, and they built talans in the trees and huts to the ground, much like the ones we have seen today. When King Oropher travelled East from Lindon, he established the realm of Greenwood the Great, and his people prospered and flourished under his ruling.

At first the realm lay far to the South near the Old Forest road, but with the rise of the Shadow, King Oropher drew back towards this part of the forest. After the war of the Last Alliance and the fall of the King, my father, then King of Greenwood the Great, ruled in peace. But with the coming of the darkness to Amon Lanc, or as we now call it, Dol Guldur, his people had to retreat even further. Now, these caves are our stronghold against the evil that Dol Guldur has released on Greenwood the Great, turning it into Mirkwood. This fortress is the last stand against Mordor, the frontier that Sauron has to take before he is ever to rule in the North-East." Legolas paused a moment, before he said with pride and vigor in his voice, "And believe me when I say that we will not surrender before we are all slain."

A shudder raced down Aragorn's spine at those words, and the walls of the corridor suddenly seemed to come closer. A fortress, Legolas had said. A stronghold. Glancing around, Aragorn looked more closely at the elves that they passed by. They were all armed. Swallowing, Aragorn hurried up to walk closer to Legolas. Even at first glance the Palace of Mirkwood was very different from his father's halls in Imladris. In Rivendell, no one except maybe Lord Glorfindel carried weapons with him all the time.

They rounded another corner and ventured deeper into the bowls of the cavern system. The passages twisted, crossed and turned, while their footsteps echoed from the walls. Some elven guards passed them by, singing and laughing as they marched, but they all greeted Legolas respectfully with a bow of their head. The deeper they went, the brighter the tunnels seemed to become. His brothers had once joked that these caverns were little better than rabbit holes, or goblin caves, but Aragorn had to disagree. The corridors Legolas led them through where smaller, less deep underground, and filled with a clean air that smelled of fresh water and grass. Also, the passages were lighter than any goblin hole could be. The walls seemed to shimmer and sparkle, as if tiny gems had been carved into the stone, and here and there Aragorn meant to see a gold or even Mithril adder in the stone. It was fascinating, to say the least.

After what seemed like an endless walk through twisting and turning passages, Legolas led them towards a huge door made of smooth dark wood. Before the door, two guards had taken up position, armed with wicked looking spears. They greeted Legolas respectfully, and Legolas silently spoke with them. Aragorn, not being able to understand what was being said, tilted his head backwards and gazed at the doors. The handles, he saw, were made of gleaming metal with diamonds, and the wood was smooth and polished. Carvings had been added, of ivy and trees, birds, squirrels and deer. Overhead, a sun had been cut into the wood, and Aragorn had the impression that this door was older than he could even imagine. Maybe it had been designed by the first elves that lived in these parts of Arda.

"My father, the King, holds court." Legolas's voice cut through his thoughts. "It would be inappropriate to disturb him now, when he is dealing with matters of the realm. So I suggest that I show you to your quarters, where you can freshen up, maybe eat a bite and catch some hours of sleep. We will meet my father at the evening meal."

Aragorn felt a wave of disappointment roll through him at that. He had been looking forward to meet the King, Legolas's father. But, he mused and looked down at himself, maybe it was well so. He really needed a bath and a good shave, clean clothing, too. And, if he was honest with himself, he was pretty tired and exhausted after the long ride and the excitement of having finally arrived in Mirkwood.

Legolas led them away from the huge door and down some more corridors. Soon, the warriors from Imladris had been shown to their quarters, where servants of the King took care of their needs. Saying their farewells to them for the moment, Legolas and Aragorn went down another corridor. Deeper and deeper Legolas led them into the caves, and Aragorn stared around in wonder. While the corridors had been bathed in red torch light on the upper levels, the deeper they came, the whiter the light became. To Aragorn's immense surprise, the light seemed to come from white gems that were placed into the stone walls, and Legolas explained that the gems indeed created the soft light.

Soon, however, Legolas led them upwards again, and after a few twists and turns of the corridor, they reached another part of the cave system. Two tall guards stood on both sides of a wide staircase made entirely of white stone. They eyed Aragorn sternly for a moment, but then nodded politely when Legolas guided Aragorn past them.

"They guard the royal wing, Estel." He explained when Aragorn threw a look back over his shoulder. "There has never been so much as a threat to the royal family, but it is protocol that they let no one pass, unless they know them or he is with one of the royal family."

Legolas led him down another corridor and stopped before a wooden door. "This will be your room while you stay in Mirkwood." He indicated the door and then gestured down the corridor. "My quarters are at the end of this hallway and those of my father are just round the bend. But you will not be able to enter them unless you are either with me or with him." Legolas smiled apologetically, "Protocol, you see."

"I understand." Aragorn nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders, "Better safe than sorry, I guess."

"Indeed." Legolas bowed his head in acknowledgement, then opened the door and entered the room. It was a wide room, with walls of grey stone. To the left there was a beautifully carved hearth, now cold, and in front of it stood two comfortable looking chairs and a smaller couch. On the other side of the room, a huge bed took most of the space, with two high candlesticks on either side. On the wall next to the bed was another door that led to an adjoining bathing chamber. A small table, a wooden box for clothing and other items, as well as a wardrobe completed the furniture.

For a moment, Aragorn simply stood in the room and gazed around. He had imagined what Legolas's home would look like, but this was not even coming close to his musings. While he had thought that the caves must be a dreary and dark place, this room was bright and seemed to breathe. The air was fresh and clean, and when Aragorn inhaled, he smelled thyme and sandalwood. Turning his head right and left, Aragorn saw that the light in the room was not coming from candles or oil lamps, but seemed to come from a window that sat in the opposite wall.

But, that was not possible, was it? Legolas had led him deep into the caves, and although they had come closer to the surface during the last half hour, they were surely still under the surface of Arda. Confused, Aragorn walked towards the 'window'. Behind him, Legolas silently closed the door and began to smile brightly, but said nothing.

Reaching the 'window', Aragorn examined it and quickly saw that it was no window at all. It was a tall funnel-shaped chute that led straight upwards. Sunlight seemed to stream down the tunnel and then into the room. Amazed, Aragorn turned back to Legolas, "That is remarkable. How do you do this?"

Smiling broadly, Legolas nodded his head at the chute, "Those chutes lead up towards the surface. We have installed great mirrors at the surface and in the chutes. The mirrors catch the light and then send it down into the caves. You can find the chutes everywhere in the caves. Furthermore, we use the white and golden gems to transport the light as well."

Shaking his head in wonderment, Aragorn slowly walked towards Legolas. He tilted his head to the side, smiling, "I like this room. It already feels homely."

Legolas laughed, "You have been here for barely a minute. How can this room feel homely already?" But despite his mocking words, Legolas wrapped his arms around Aragorn's middle and gently pulled the young man closer.

"Because you are here with me." Aragorn said, leaning closer. "And maybe you have not noticed, but we are all alone. For the first time in weeks."

"Ah, but I noticed." Legolas said, smiling warmly at his friend and lover. Slowly, very slowly, he withdrew his right arm from around Aragorn, to let his fingers caress down the man's cheek. "And I have waited for us to be alone since the day we rode out of Imladris."

Legolas's thumb stroked over Aragorn's lips, then down his chin and throat. His eyes gleaming, Legolas leaned down. His red lips brushed Aragorn's, light as a feather, barely touching. And then, his tongue sneaked out, warm and wet, licking Aragorn's lips and tasting the mouth he had longed to kiss undisturbed for weeks. Legolas closed his eyes, wanting to simply enjoy the moment. When they kissed, he felt his whole body tingle with repressed desire and need, and before he knew what he was doing, Legolas gently guided Aragorn to the bed.

For long moment the lovers touched and kissed, gentle and considerate of the others' needs. Legolas pulled Aragorn's shirt out of his breeches, and brushed his hands up and down the young man's chest and back, ever mindful of the arm that still hung in a sling around the man's neck. The skin felt so warm, so good, and so incredibly known to him, that Legolas felt his body heat. It took not long for Aragorn to follow Legolas's example and free the elf's shirt of the breeches. A strong hand sneaked under the shirt, caressing each rib, before it teasingly stroked Legolas's nipples. Hissing, Legolas placed a hot kiss on Aragorn's neck, before he guided the man to lie down on the bed. Straddling him, Legolas let his lips work their way down the delicate skin on the man's neck, while his hands travelled up and down the broad but still youthful chest under the shirt.

Legolas sighed blissfully, losing himself in the things he felt. For weeks he had longed to be alone with Aragorn, and now he wanted nothing more than to enjoy their togetherness. He willed his muscles to relax and his mind to go blank and not think. Aragorn's body felt so wonderfully warm and alive under his hands, so young and strong. A soft moan reached Legolas's ears, and he intensified his gentle ministrations. Already he could feel heat gather in his groin, and his toes began to tingle. Oh, how he wanted this, how he needed this right now!

Legolas shifted his position and let his hand reach downwards, to the waistband of Aragorn's breeches. The young man groaned softly and bucked his hips in anticipation of what was to come. Smiling, Legolas kissed him passionately, while he teasingly stroked him softly between his legs. The touch was just strong enough so that Aragorn would feel it, but too soft to fully rouse him. Aragorn groaned and pushed his hips upwards. His good hand came up to grab Legolas's slender waist, and Legolas felt his member harden. Swallowing, Legolas leaned down and gave Aragorn another deep and long kiss.

Aragorn tightened his hold on Legolas's waist, and when the elf did not continue his ministrations of Aragorn's own arousal, the young man reached around and began clumsily to twiddle with the leather strings that held them closed. Legolas smiled at his lover's impatience, but quickly undid his breeches nonetheless. His half-hardened elfhood came free, and Legolas gave it a quick stroke before he leaned down again. Shifting, he laid himself down between Aragorn's legs, so that his head was close to the man's navel. Kissing the belly button, Legolas slowly began to open the strings on Aragorn's breeches. He accentuated each opening knot with a twist of his tongue on hot skin, making Aragorn groan softly.

With a final tug the last leather string came loose, and Legolas slowly pushed the fabric down over Aragorn's hips. Letting his fingers stroke the skin, Legolas was just to reach for Aragorn's manhood….

… when there was a knock on the door.

Man and elf startled, shocked. They ceased all motions, listening. Maybe they were mistaken and there was no one at the door after all. For a moment, they held their breaths, too scared to even think, staring at the door. And then, another knock came, and a voice called through the thick wood, "Prince Legolas? Are you in there?"

Wincing, Legolas let his head hang. He knew that voice very well and he also knew that it would not suffer to be ignored. With a curse on his lips he sat up quickly and pulled up his breeches. With but a few hasty pushes he placed his shirt back into his pants as well, stopped, and then decided that it would probably be better to wear his shirt 'over' his breeches. It would not do for Legolas to be seen in such an aroused state of body. He then literally jumped from the bed. He combed through his hair with his fingers, urging Aragorn with his eyes to make himself presentably. And quickly so! It really would not do for them to be found like that! And certainly not by his father's master healer, for that was who stood before the door, demanding entry.

A moment later, another knock echoed around the room, "Prince Legolas?"

While Aragorn climbed off the bed and moved to the other side of the room, away from Legolas, the elf moved to the door. Giving Aragorn a quick head-to-toe scan, Legolas took the handle of the door and opened it just the moment another knock sounded.

"Aye?" Legolas tried to use his most formal and most calm voice, and to his surprise, his voice sounded confident and just as normal as possible. All his years of being groomed into the next King of Mirkwood were obviously paying off.

The elf that stood in the doorway took a step back and then bowed formally. He was tall and slender, but his neatly tied-back hair and his clothing gave him away as a healer immediately. With a deep voice that seemed to come from deep inside his chest, the elf said, "My Prince, the runner that the border guards send to inform us of your arrival reported that you were injured. When you did not immediately come to my chambers I deemed it best to come looking for you."

Nodding his head in apology and stepping to the side so that the healer could enter, Legolas said, "Forgive me, Master Thurinir. Indeed we should have come to your healing rooms, but I first wanted to show my guest to his quarters."

The older elf stepped into the room and bowed before Aragorn. "Welcome to our lands, friend of the Prince."

"Thurinir, this is Lord Estel of Imladris. He is Lord Elrond's foster son." Legolas gestured at Aragorn, then turned to the healer, "Estel, this is Master healer Thurinir. He is the head over the healing wing and the personal healer of my family. He even served under my grandfather, King Oropher the late."

"Indeed, I did." Thurinir said, eying Aragorn up and down. His expressive eyes came to rest on the sling around Aragorn's neck, and then travelled slowly to the dirty and bloodied clothing. "And I see that it is not only you, young Prince, who needs my services."

Thurinir send for the things he would need, then set to work on Aragorn and Legolas. While he worked, his hands gentle and his eyes sharp, Legolas told him what had befallen them during their journey. The healer listened intently, asking a question here and there himself. It soon became obvious to Aragorn that Legolas seemed to like the healer, and that their bond went far deeper than Prince and healer. They were friends. When Thurinir had cleaned, examined and treated Legolas's injuries and declared them to be healing well, he turned to Aragorn.

The cut at his elbow was treated quickly, as were the broken and bruises ribs, but the injured arm and leg troubled the healer. "Does it hurt you when you bent the arm like this?" Thurinir moved Aragorn's arm to the side and then up. Wincing, Aragorn nodded, "Aye."

"And when I do this?" Thurinir moved the arm backwards, making Aragorn grunt in pain. "I see. And when I do this?" This time, Thurinir bent the arm so much that Aragorn felt tears prick his eyes. He quickly turned his head away, but both Legolas and the healer had seen. With a sigh, the healer placed the arm in Aragorn's lap and leaned back. "It has been set as good as was possible given the circumstances, but I fear that the joint has suffered some damage. It will take time to heal, my Lord." Thurinir got up and moved over to the side table where a servant had placed his utensils.

"As long as it heals properly." Aragorn mumbled, cradling his hurting arm. Legolas, who until now had stood to the side, sat down beside him. "It will heal well, you will see." He gave Aragorn an encouraging smile and a pat on the leg. Sighing, Aragorn nodded his head.

When the arm was massaged with oil and treated with a salve, Thurinir put it back in the sling, advising Aragorn to wear it all day, until the pain receded. He also made the two friends promise to come see him every second day, to make sure that they were both healing as they should. When they were finally alone once more, Aragorn sank down in a chair near the fire place, exhausted. His arm and shoulder hurt, as did his leg, which Thurinir had massaged as well. Sighing with fatigue, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair.

Oh, he was so tired. Had it not been for the pain in his arm, he would have fallen asleep that instant. Already his senses were dimming with sleep, when he suddenly felt the presence of Legolas behind him. The elf kissed him on the dark locks and placed his hands on his shoulders. Another kiss followed, and another. Aragorn smiled, but did not open his eyes. Slowly, Legolas moved his arms downward, caressing his chest, ever careful of the injured limb. Aragorn sighed and relaxed, enjoying Legolas's slender but strong hands on his body.

Slowly, not stopping in his gentle caresses, Legolas moved around the chair and knelt down in front of Aragorn. He placed his hands on the man's knees, gently forcing them apart, so that he could shift closer. Again, the freed the shirt from the man's breeches and kissed the warm skin underneath. His touch was gentle, but full of repressed haste, and Aragorn smiled. He knew that Legolas hated it to be interrupted while they loved each other. Sighing once more, Aragorn slid down in the chair just a little. Thoughts of sleep fled his mind when Legolas dipped his wet tongue into his belly button, and his good hand gripped the backrest tightly. His breathing quickened and he felt his member harden.

As if Legolas sensed this as well, his nimble fingers stroked Aragorn between the legs, up and down, making the man moan softly and spread his legs even further. The leather strips to his breeches were quickly loosened once more, and warm lips greeted the freed skin. Moaning, Aragorn tried his best to stay still and not buck his hips, wanting to enjoy this for as long as possible. Legolas's hands caressed his thighs, stroking them, while his mouth placed kiss upon kiss onto his hot skin. Just when Legolas leaned in to take him up….

….there was another loud knock on the door.

Both lovers groaned in frustration. This could not be happening, this could not be true. Shaking his head, Legolas was to stand up, but Aragorn pouted, "Ignore them, Legolas." Sighing dejectedly, Legolas got to his feet. "I cannot, whoever it is, they know we are here and they will not leave."

Mumbling something uncomplimentary under his breath, Aragorn sat up straight and tugged his breeches close. As soon as Legolas left his side to answer the door, he felt his exhaustion and tiredness sweep over him like a tidal wave. Whoever was at the door, he better be quick lest he fall asleep there and then.

When the door opened, Aragorn saw that Legolas was rushed by two elves who wore the green and brown livery of the soldiers of Mirkwood. They laughed and hugged the Prince, clapping him on his shoulders and grinning foolishly. Aragorn got to his feet, intrigued.

"Why Legolas, you arrive home and did not even tell us that you would return?" One of the elves said, grinning.

"Aye, what kind of friend are you?" The other elf said, frowning in mock anger.

"Peace, friends." Legolas smiled broadly and lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "There just was no time to send a letter." He apologized, then turned to Aragorn. "But where are my manners, let me introduce you." He gestured at Aragorn, "Silien, Merenor, this is Lord Estel Elrondion, Lord Elrond's foster son. Estel, these are Silien and Merenor, friends of mine."

Silien was as tall as Legolas, with dark blond hair and green eyes. Merenor, on the other hand, had almost brown hair, with blue eyes and a friendly face. They were both warriors of Mirkwood, patrolling the woods and keeping track of the movements of orcs and spiders.

Aragorn nodded his head in greeting, for with his injured arm he was not able to perform the elvish greeting. But Silien and Merenor did not mind. They grinned at him and eyed him up and down, but not in an unfriendly way, before they turned back to Legolas, "So old Thurinir was not exaggerating this time. You two look as if you had been dragged through mud and misery and back."

Legolas sighed dramatically, "Ah, same old, same old, friends. Some orcs is all." If he had thought that his words would keep Silien and Merenor from wanting to hear the tale, he was mistaken. A few moments later they were all sitting in front of the by now lit hearth, and Legolas told them of his stay in Imladris and the journey back. When he told them of the attack of the orcs, the faces of the two elves became grim. They hated orcs with a passion, and they hated them even more if the ugly beasts got their hands on their friend and Prince. When the tale was told, there was a short pause in which Aragorn tried to hide his yawn behind his hand. He was so tired….

"So tell me, Estel," Silien said, ripping Aragorn out of his half-asleep state, "for how long have you known Legolas?"

Trying to reactivate his brain, Aragorn had to think for a moment, before he was able to answer. Slightly embarrassed that he had nearly fallen asleep, he quickly turned the subject of the conversation away from him. "And for how long have you two known Legolas?"

"Oh, ages." Merenor waved his hand through the air dismissively. "We know each other since we were all still little elflings with nothing but nonsense in our heads."

"You still have nothing but nonsense in your head." Silien said, which earned him a laugh from Legolas and a swat to the head from Merenor. "Only telling the truth." Silien mumbled and rubbed his head.

They talked for another hour, and Aragorn learned that Silien, Merenor and Legolas were friends since they had met as elflings, had gone to weapons and tactics trainings together, and been on their first patrol together as well. Their friendship went deep, and Legolas seemed to enjoy himself in their presence. Aragorn began to wonder why Legolas had never mentioned those two before. But before he could ask, Silien and Merenor stood up and excused themselves, saying that it was late and that they would have a meeting with their Captain early the next morning. Legolas led them to the door, wishing them a good night, then returned to Aragorn's side.

Yawning, Aragorn blinked his eyes wearily. If he had been tired when Legolas's friends had knocked on the door, he was positively dead on his feet now. He did not protest when Legolas helped him up from the chair and guided him over to the bed. Laying down on the soft covers, Aragorn sighed deeply and closed his eyes. Stretching out did so good…

Legolas went around the room and doused the many candles, then placed another log on the fire for the night. He was still wide awake, and only the thought of Aragorn, lying on the bed waiting for him, made him feel all fuzzy and warm inside. Blowing out the last candle, he quickly made his way over to the bed, already tugging at the leather strings on his breeches. He had waited so long, no more interruptions now, he vowed.

But when he came to the bed, Aragorn had turned to side and was fast asleep, snoring softly.

To be continued.


	3. The King of Mirkwood

**Here were are again! A brand new chapter. I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you should soon find review replies in your inbox . :)**

Chapter 3: The King of Mirkwood

Having not the heart to wake Aragorn, Legolas sighed and made his way to his own room. There, he washed and dressed in clean clothing, before he sat down and started to brush his long tresses. He was just securing the last braid, when there was a knock on the door.

"Enter!" He called, turning around.

The door opened, and behind the background of the light from the hallway, Legolas saw his father, King Thranduil, enter the room. In his right hand he carried a carven staff of oak, inlaid with tiny golden flowers, and in his left hand a crown made of winter flowers. His robes were regal, telling Legolas that his father had come to his room straight from the council meeting, without bothering to change his attire first. A huge smile formed on Legolas's face, and before his father had time to close the door behind him, Legolas rushed towards him.

"Ada!"

Son and father hugged for a long moment. "I have missed you, my son." Thranduil said, holding his son at arm's length and scanning him from head to foot. "I see that your journey was indeed as dangerous as my master healer as told me."

Legolas frowned, but did not deny it, "He told you?"

Thranduil laughed, closed the door, and made his way over to Legolas's bed, where he sat down. Placing the crown and the staff beside him, he tilted his head to the side in amusement, "You are not only my son but the Crown Prince as well, Legolas. Of course Thurinir would report to me immediately."

Sighing, Legolas poured them both a glass of water, then sat down in a chair. "Then you know everything that happened on our journey?"

"Aye, I do. And I am concerned, Legolas." The King took a swallow from the water, then smiled at his son, "But let us not talk about this now, ion nin. I have not seen you for a year. Come, tell me how you have been."

Father and son talked for at least two hours. Legolas told his father of his year in Imladris, of the things he had done and seen, of the feasts and ceremonies, the hunts and the fire. But, although he wished to, he did not yet tell his father of his feelings for Aragorn, for he wanted his father to meet Aragorn first, so that he could form his own picture of his lover. Only when a servant poked his head in, asking where the family wished to have dinner, did they realize how late it was.

"I think we will dine in the great hall, after all, I have yet to greet our guest. A son of Elrond deserves a welcome feast." Thranduil said, getting to his feet.

"Ada, I don't know if this will be possible." Legolas interjected, dismayed. He told his father of Aragorn's injuries, the blood loss and the extreme tiredness.

"So he is asleep even now as we speak?"

Legolas nodded, "Aye. I had not the heart to wake him."

Thinking for a moment, Thranduil shrugged his shoulders, "It surely is not becoming that I don't greet our guest on the day of his arrival, but I trust your judgment, Legolas. If you say he needs his sleep now, we will let him rest. I can greet him tomorrow." And with a look at the servant, Thranduil said, "My son and I will have our dinner in the family room, then."

After the King had changed into more comfortable attire, he and Legolas sat down in the private dining room of the family and had dinner. While they ate, they talked about the last year, the changes that had been wrought on Mirkwood, and the King's plans for the future. When they had tea after dinner, relaxing in front of the fire that burned in the hearth, Thranduil once more began to talk about the orc attack.

"And you have no idea who could have killed the orcs?"

Legolas shook his head and sighed, "No, we found no sign of them, although they could not have been gone for long ere we arrived at the camp. The blood of the orcs had not yet dried." '_And neither had Estel's'_, Legolas thought, but did not say it.

Thranduil frowned and took a sip of his tea, "That is strange indeed. What do you guess, my son?"

Legolas had thought about this question since the day they had rescued Aragorn, and he had his answer prepared, "We examined the arrows we found at the camp, we even brought one with us. From the make of them, I would say that an elf made them. But they are crude and lack the finesse of a skilled weapons master. Or maybe the one who made them had not the right tools. Be that as it may, he killed a whole group of orcs, all of them shot, and there was no other blood, but orcish. Whoever it was, he was skilled at killing the foul beasts." Legolas took a deep breath, "I think it was an elf. But what I don't understand is why he did not reveal himself."

"Neither do I." The King said, looking into the flames thoughtfully. "The elves of Lothlorien never stray that far North, and they have no reason to act in secret. It were none of our people, either. Mayhap it were dark elves?"

Legolas thought about that for a moment, but dismissed the idea. Dark elves were rare, and it was unlikely that one of the last dark elves that wandered Middle-earth had been in the right place just in the nick of time to rescue Aragorn. He shook his head, "Possible, but not likely, Ada."

"Well then, we have to look for an elf who probably lives in the wild, makes his own arrows, is willing to risk his own life to save a human, and then vanishes from sight when kinsmen arrive." Thranduil said, his voice void of mockery. He was taking the situation very seriously.

At his father's words, Legolas suddenly felt very uneasy. Pictures of the camp flooded his mind, of Aragorn's bonds that had been cut, the injury that had been treated. '_An elf who probably lives in the wild_', Legolas thought, '_who risks his own life to safe Aragorn and who fears other elves.'_ A name sprang to the forefront of his mind, a name that he wished he could forget, and no matter what he did, the longer he thought about the name, the more logical it seemed that it was the solution to their mysteries. Lithdal.

Legolas was so deep in thought, that he did not hear his father call his name. Three times. Only when Thranduil placed his hand on his knee was he ripped from his thoughts and returned back to reality. "Legolas? Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"Aye, there is." And Legolas told his father about Lithdal. Of course he had written to his father after the incident in Imladris and warned him of the former messenger, but he had not written all there was to tell. Some things were better said face to face. Legolas told his father that Lithdal had been jealous of his friendship with Aragorn, why, he did not know. In the end, Lithdal had tried to kill Legolas, and had it not been for Aragorn, Legolas could have been seriously injured in the fight. What Legolas did not tell, was the fact that Lithdal had fallen in love with Aragorn and had seen Legolas as a rival who needed to be eliminated.

When he finished, Thranduil looked at him for a long time ere he spoke, "So Lithdal tried to kill you because he was jealous?"

Legolas nodded, but did not say more.

"That is sad news indeed. And if it is indeed true, then Lithdal must be banned from Mirkwood, and all the other elven realms, as the law requires." A deep frown appeared on the King's face, "But I cannot ban him ere he had a trial, Legolas, you know that."

Indeed, Legolas knew that every elf had the right of a trial before the King and the High Court, ere he was punished. But that also meant that they had to find Lithdal first. And Legolas had no illusions; he knew that Lithdal would not be caught easily. Having been born and grown up in Mirkwood, he knew the forest as well as all the warriors. More so, he knew the Palace as well as the back of his hand, too, having served King and Prince for decades.

"I know, father. And I respect the law. But if it was really him in the forest that day, then he must have followed us to Mirkwood, too." Legolas looked at his father, his eyes bright with unrepressed emotions, "I fear, father, for I don't know what he is capable of doing. If his anger and lust for revenge had enough time to simmer, then he would be very dangerous."

Thranduil nodded his head gravely, "I see and I understand your concern. But don't worry, Legolas. I will inform the guards and soldiers. Estel and you are safe in the Palace, and when you are outside these walls, then there will be guards with you." He leaned forwards and smiled at his son, "You will see, ion nin, no harm will befall you two. After all, what kind of host would I be if the son of Elrond was injured while being my guest?" He stood to his feet and snorted softly, "Lord Glorfindel would have my head."

Smiling, Legolas sighed, "Thank you Ada, but with Estel's injuries, we will be bound to the Palace the next few weeks. And then any real hunting will be made impossible by the rashness of winter."

Thranduil considered this for a moment, then said thoughtfully, "You are right that Estel will not be able to do much in the upcoming weeks. But when he is healed, you two could join one of the patrols that visit the posts in the woods and supply the warriors with winter supplies. If you choose one of the nearer outposts, Estel will be able to make the journey, won't he?"

Legolas eyes lit with pleasure, "Aye, Ada, he would be. That is a wonderful idea!"

"See," Thranduil said and winked at his son, "sometimes your old father does come up with good plans."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Early the next morning, Legolas went to Aragorn's room, waking the young man. They enjoyed a little private time together, but before they could continue where they had stopped the night before, a servant came to announce that the morning meal had been set up in the dining room of the royal family, and that the King was awaiting them.

While the two of them made their way down the hallway towards the dining room, Aragorn could not help but get nervous. His brothers had told him stories about King Thranduil, as had his father, and of course Legolas had told him about his father, too. But beside those tales, he had also heard a lot about the King in the corridors of Imladris, and had read about him in the books in his father's library. Meeting King Thranduil was almost as if he was meeting a piece of history itself. After all, King Thranduil had fought in the Last Alliance. The fact that his foster father had fought in that war, too, just didn't seem to be as important at the moment.

Aragorn was suddenly very aware of his own shortcomings. Why had his hair to be _that_ unruly? Had he shaved properly that morning? And what had ridden him to wear his old leather boots? Aragorn quickly moved his good hand through his hair, trying to tame it, and then brushed the crinkles out of his tunic. He was only dimly aware that Legolas was talking to him. When a hand was suddenly placed on his forearm, he startled violently.

"Estel." Legolas said, smiling, "Stop acting as if you had ants in your shirt. Everything will be fine."

Sighing (but still shifting nervously), Aragorn glanced at Legolas out of the corner of his eye. "Do you think I could run back to my room and change?"

"No, you can't." Legolas laughed, took him by the arm and dragged him gently down the corridor. "And why should you, Estel? You look good, and anyway, Ada won't care how you look."

Not really reassured by Legolas's words, Aragorn followed his friend down the corridor. The nearer they came to the door of the dining room, the more nervous he got. But, why was he so nervous? Was it really because he was meeting a real King? Aragorn thought about it for a moment, then came to the conclusion that could not be it. He had met very important people in his father's house, not all of them friendly. He had been trained in diplomacy and manners, and he knew how to behave properly. Meeting King Thranduil was certainly very exciting, but Aragorn had not felt that nervous before, never.

No, Aragorn suddenly realized, he was not nervous because he was meeting a King, but because he was meeting Legolas's _father_. His friend's father. His lover's father. He was nervous because he was meeting the father of the person he probably liked most in all Arda. What if Thranduil did not like him? What if he really disliked humans that much? What if he thought that he was not good enough for Legolas? What if….but before Aragorn could fret more, they stopped in front of the door to the royal dining room, Legolas knocked and they entered.

The room was lit by light that seemed to rain down the chutes that were on all sides of the chamber. Colorful gems that set in the walls reflected the light, and Aragorn had the impression of standing under a waterfall in a forest. It was amazing. So amazing even, that he barely heard his name being spoken.

"Ah, you must be Estel Elrondion. Well met."

Surprised, Aragorn quickly turned his head. There, only a few feet away, stood King Thranduil. He was dressed formally, but not so much so, and there was no crown adorning his head. And, he was _smiling_. Quickly recovering, Aragorn turned his full attention on the King. He bowed his head and extended his good hand in the formal elvish greeting.

"Well met, King Thranduil Oropherion. I thank thee for your hospitality and I bring greetings from my father, Lord Elrond of Imladris."

"Ah, no need to be that formal, young Elrondion." Thranduil said and waved his hand through the air dismissively. "A friend of Legolas is a friend of Mirkwood."

Smiling, the King pointed his hand at the wooden table that stood in the middle of the room. "Why don't we sit down? It talks easier while being seated."

Still feeling very nervous, Aragorn merely nodded his head, then followed the King to the table. While Legolas sat at his father's right, Aragorn took the seat apposite Legolas. One glance at the food that stood on the table made his stomach squirm. He suddenly felt just like the last time he had been terribly ill. But then Legolas smiled at him and gave him a secretive wink; warmth spread through his body, making him feel all giddy. And when the King passed him the juice jug a moment later, he only spilled a tiny bit due to his nervousness.

'_In hindsight_', Aragorn mused that night, '_the breakfast with the King could not have gone any better._' After the ice had been broken, Aragorn, Legolas and King Thranduil had enjoyed a lovely breakfast, they had shared pleasant conversation and even some jokes. The King had praised his knowledge about herbs and healing, they had laughed about the antics of the twins, swapped stories from both realms, the King had mentioned the upcoming journey to the outpost of the warriors, suggesting that Aragorn and Legolas join the group headed there, and in the end, the King had invited him to join him and Legolas for the evening meal. No, things had gone very well indeed, and he was looking forward to the coming weeks of his stay. And with the image of a smiling Legolas in his mind, he fell asleep.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

The weeks passed quickly in Mirkwood. There were so many things to see and to explore, to question about and to learn, that Aragorn woke one morning and realized with a start, that he had entered the forest of Mirkwood almost two months ago. 'Where has the time gone?' He wondered, and for a moment he became a little home sick. He had sent a letter to Rivendell two weeks ago, but he was not expecting an answer anytime soon. Winter had finally reached the lands, and the roads were so laden with snow that no messengers rode forth to other realms. The only way of sending messages was with carrier pigeons, but even those had trouble flying in the harsh wind and ever falling snow. Aragorn realized sadly that his letter might never reach his family, and that weeks, maybe even months would pass ere he would hear again from his brothers and father.

But despite his bout of homesickness, Aragorn was happy to be in Mirkwood. Legolas had shown him the Palace and much of the surrounding grounds, including the near villages, the mill at the river and the tunnel system that ran under the whole complex. "They were built for times of war and fight." Legolas explained. "Warriors and civilians can use them during a siege to reach safety. The system is so complex that not even I or my father know its whole length." Here he laughed mischievously, "But believe me when I say that Silien, Merenor and I have tried to explore it thoroughly in our youth."

Aragorn soon learned that Silien and Merenor were Legolas's best friends in Mirkwood. The two warriors often spend their free time with him and the Prince, sharing jokes and telling embarrassing stories of their childhood. Legolas seemed to enjoy their company, and Aragorn found that the two elves were good companions. But the more time he spent with Legolas's friends, the more questions he had about the relationship between Merenor and Legolas. From time to time, Merenor would place his hand on Legolas's shoulder, would whisper in his ear or look at him so fondly that Aragorn began to wonder whether they had been more than just friends in the past. But, he never dared to ask Legolas, and Legolas did not tell.

It did not went unnoticed by Aragorn that Merenor was nearly as dark haired as he was, and that the elf was as tall as he himself. But while Aragorn had grey eyes, those of Merenor were of a deep blue, matching the evening sky. There were other similarities between him and Merenor, Aragorn noticed, such as their sense of humor or their dislike for the little short-bow of the elves. It seemed likely that Legolas had felt attracted to Merenor and him because of these things, and Aragorn felt a pang inside at this thought. Surely Legolas did not just like him because he was consistent with some model-of-the-perfect-lover that Legolas fancied?

After a while, Aragorn came to the decision that he would ask Legolas about Merenor, sooner or later, but that it did not really matter. Legolas time and again showed him (and often without words) that he loved him, and that was enough for Aragorn. Whatever there had been between him and Merenor in the past, it seemed to be over.

After a few weeks of staying in Mirkwood, the Master healer declared his shoulder as good as new, and Aragorn was finally allowed to throw away the sling. His whole body had recuperated well, his leg ceased hurting him and he rarely felt the need to sleep during the day anymore. Legolas's injury had healed more quickly, and soon both friends were seen at the training fields, standing knee deep in the snow, practicing archery. While Legolas found that his shoulder had healed so well that his aim was almost back to his normal perfection, Aragorn's shoulder often pained him when he trained for too long. But the Master healer assured him that this pain would soon go away, and that the cold was not helping the healing muscles. So, Aragorn resigned himself to the prospect of bad hunting results for the next few weeks, but was glad that there would be no lasting damages from his captivity.

But while Aragorn found the Palace an enchanted place, with interesting people and exciting things to see and learn, he soon found out that Legolas had many responsibilities as a Prince. Those often kept him away from Aragorn for hours on end, leaving him wandering alone in the corridors of the Palace or reading in his room.

Another thing that bothered Aragorn (and Legolas as well) was, that they could not spend the nights together. Legolas's room and the room Aragorn stayed in were in the same wing, but not close. There was no door attaching them, as there had been in Rivendell. And while it was considered appropriate for Legolas to stay long into the night in Aragorn's room, or the other way round, it certainly was not possible to stay overnight. The guards would notice, as would the servants, and Legolas explained to Aragorn that gossip travelled faster than lightning in Mirkwood. And while Legolas ensured Aragorn over and over that he did not care in the slightest whether the whole of Arda knew of their relationship, he also had his status as Crown prince to consider. He was not sure how his people would react to the news. And what was even more important, he wanted to tell his father first. There had been no opportune moment to tell the King, which both lovers regretted, for it was clear that the King had taken a liking to Aragorn.

So, the only way for them to be together was during the day or in the early hours of night. They had to be silent and discreet, always lock the door, and hope that none of Legolas's friends came for a visit, no servant knocked at the door, or council member wanted a word with the Prince. After a few weeks, Aragorn felt as if he was playing hide and seek the whole day, and if their love making was any indication, Legolas felt the same. It was always rushed and hasty, lacking the caresses and loving tenderness they usually shared. And, Aragorn really missed to wake up with Legolas by his side, holding him close.

While his nightmares only very seldom plagued his nights anymore, the silence of the night and the darkness did not sit well with Aragorn. More than once he woke in the middle of the night, stretching his arm out to the other side of the bed to touch his lover. But always the only thing he touched was the cold mattress, and with a jolt in his stomach he remembered that Legolas was not there. With time, Aragorn began to wish that things were different, but he knew that it was not to be.

When two months had passed and the winter had Mirkwood in its tight grip, King Thranduil told them over dinner one night that one of the outposts was in need of supplies. While this trip would take place way sooner than Legolas and Aragorn had planned, both were only too happy to leave the Palace and venture into Mirkwood for a while. Legolas wanted to show Aragorn his home, his Kingdom, and Aragorn was eager to see it all. They agreed to join the patrol that would take the supplies to the guard post, and within a few days they had readied their packs, sharpened their weapons and were ready to go.

The night before they departed, Legolas and Aragorn shared a few private hours in Aragorn's room. They had been busy with packing and the arranging of their departure the whole day, and were now tired and exhausted. As soon as they had closed (and locked) the door behind them, they had flopped down on the bed, sighing wearily. It was many minutes later that Legolas sighed loudly and sat up. Turning his head, he glanced at Aragorn, who lay on the bed next to him.

"Estel?"

"Hm?" Aragorn mumbled without opening his eyes.

"I know we talked about this, but are you sure that you are healed enough to go on this trip?" Legolas asked worriedly. "It is freezing cold out there, and we will not be able to light big fires at night, because of the spiders. It could get dangerous if we meet orcs or wargs, and you never know what other creatures are out there. What if…."

But before Legolas could finish his sentence, Aragorn sat up quickly and put his finger across Legolas's lips to silence him. "Hush, Legolas." Aragorn smiled at his friend and lover. "I'm healed enough to go on this trip, even the Master healer said so. Don't fret, Legolas. Nothing bad will happen."

"But what if…"

"No 'but', Legolas." Aragorn shook his head and pointed his finger at the elf. "Don't make me say it again, Legolas. I am fine!" Aragorn pronounced the last word with care and underlined his words with a mock glare. "And anyway," the young man waved his hand through the air dismissively, "you will be there, and Silien and Merenor, too. And furthermore there will be ten able bodied warriors accompanying us. If anything should happen, there will be enough soldiers to protect me, should the need arise. For I am sure your father has instructed them to take good care of me, has he not?"

Legolas smiled apologetically, "You are Lord Elrond's son. Of course my father has instructed them to look after you."

"Right." Aragorn clapped his hands. "You see, nothing can happen to me, Legolas." Aragorn smiled and leaned forwards, "And if you are truly concerned about my well being, why don't you see for yourself that I am well again?" He lifted an eyebrow and smiled sweetly. Leaning in, he took Legolas's face in both his hands and kissed him. It was a teasing kiss, full of unfulfilled promises, and it had just the effect on the elf that Aragorn wanted. With a moan, Legolas returned the kiss eagerly, before he wrapped his arms around Aragorn and held him tightly.

Within minutes, both lovers lay nakedly side by side, touching and kissing each other. They frolicked for a while, laughing merrily and exchanging all the caresses that they knew the other enjoyed. So it came that Aragorn straddled Legolas, smiling down at him. Breathing heavily, Legolas moved the palms of his hands up and down Aragorn's muscular thighs, using his fingertips to gently tease the human. Both lovers where fully aroused, and they both knew that it was only a very short matter of time before they would make love.

Grinning foolishly, Legolas let his hands travel up Aragorn's thighs and then inwards, eliciting a deep moan from the man. Arching his back, Aragorn bucked his hips and pushed them forwards, wanting to feel the friction of Legolas's hands. Willing to do as Aragorn asked, Legolas took the man's aroused member into his slender hands and began to massage the thick shaft. Aragorn groaned loudly, bucking his hips more eagerly now. His hands pressed down on Legolas's chest, where his fingers almost unconsciously rubbed the elf's hard nipples. Legolas licked his lips at the sight before him, entranced by the fact that Aragorn's body responded to his every touch.

Again and again he rubbed his hands all the length up and down of Aragorn's member, until it was so hard that Legolas could feel every single vein in it. His own length was pounding with desire, and so he took a hand away from Aragorn to touch himself. He moaned with pleasure, closing his eyes. Soon Aragorn's hands joined his own and began to massage Legolas's shaft, and after a few minutes the lovers felt shivers of suppressed release flood their bodies. Leaning down, Aragorn kissed Legolas soundly on the mouth, breathless and all. Then he rubbed his nose against Legolas's in their own unique way of asking for permission to love each other, and Legolas nodded hastily. He knew he was close to find his release, and he wanted to be inside his partner when he did.

Knowing what Legolas wanted, Aragorn reached over to the nightstand where they kept their oil, opened the bottle and quickly slicked Legolas's impressive length. Then he dunked his fingers into the oil, lifted himself on his knees, and inserted a finger into his opening. Months of Legolas making love to him had widened him so that he only needed little preparation anymore, and both lovers were very grateful for that. After but a few short minutes, Aragorn removed his fingers, wiped them on the blanket, and shifted forwards a little. Lifting himself up, he took Legolas's member in his hand, positioned himself over it, and then guided it to his opening. Legolas watched with held breath as he sank deeper and deeper into his lover, until his whole length was fully sheathed. Only then did he release his breath, and it came out in one long growl of pleasure.

While Legolas gripped Aragorn's waist tightly in sweet anticipation of what was to come, Aragorn rotated his hips gently, adjusting to the pounding shaft filling him. His hands slid over his chest and down his stomach, over his own pounding length where they squeezed hard, before they ran up Legolas's chest. There they came to rest, being anchor and teaser at the same time. Legolas felt the hot, wet tightness around his length, and he could not resist the urge to push upwards. Aragorn groaned, pushing downwards, and moments later they moved in an ever quickening rhythm of pure lust and desire. Faster and faster they went until they took short breaks, before they continued their dance to an even faster melody. Sweat glistened on their bodies, and soon Aragorn bowed his head in pleasure. His dark hair fell in wet strands around his face, and Legolas reached up to push it away. This shift it position caused his length to hit an especially sweet spot in Aragorn, and the man hissed in pleasure.

Feeling heat pound in his member because of the sight of his lover sheathed on him, Legolas let his hands stroke Aragorn's shaft in earnest. Groaning, Aragorn pushed harder, again and again, and a moment later, the man found his release with a particularly strong squeeze of Legolas's nimble fingers. The sight of Aragorn's spilling his seed over his stomach and chest, combined with the contraction of the man's tunnel was enough to make Legolas's come as well. He came hot and long inside of his lover, with shivers of glorious release spreading through his entire body. They stayed like that for a few moments, Legolas flat on his back and Aragorn's straddling him, bathing in the afterglow of their love making. Then, Aragorn reached down and gently lifted himself from Legolas, careful not to hurt his friend. They quickly cleaned themselves, and then lay side by side, waiting for their bodies to calm.

Too soon, Legolas sat up and sighed unhappily. "I should go. We have a hard day ahead of us, and we should get some sleep." Aragorn nodded in understanding, but he was not happy with the situation either. So, Legolas swung his long legs over the side of the bed, grabbed his clothes and dressed. Before he left, he leaned down and placed a kiss on Aragorn's forehead. "I'm sorry that it has to be this way, melethron. But things are as they are." He sighed once more, then slowly made his way over to the door.

"I know, Legolas." Aragorn said forlornly. He sat up in bed and pouted. "I just wish you could stay, just once. It is so different from Rivendell. I…I think I just got accustomed to you lying next to me when I awake."

Legolas paused and turned around. The sight of Aragorn, sitting naked in the bed, still slightly blushed and sweaty from their love making and pouting like a five-year-old, made his heart beat faster. But he wondered whether there was more to his friend's request. He walked back to the bed and sat down. "You know I would love to stay, Estel, but I can't. But tell me, is there something else you want to talk about?" Legolas looked deep into Aragorn's eyes and took his hand, "The nightmares have not come back, have they?"

Aragorn quickly shook his head, "No, they haven't." He paused, then shrugged, "At least not the same nightmare as before. I dream of my captivity sometimes, but it is not that bad." Aragorn shifted his weight uncomfortably, "But that is not what I meant. Legolas, I want you here with me because I miss you at night. Not because of the nightmares. I can deal with those. After all, I know that you will rescue me every single time. My nightmares are terrible, but they all end well. You kill the orcs, cut my bonds, tell me that I am safe and kiss me. Just like you did in reality." Aragorn smiled warmly at him.

Something cold seemed to plunge right into Legolas's stomach. He had not yet told Aragorn that it had not been him and the warriors from Imladris who had rescued him, but that someone else had killed the foul creatures. What had been the point in telling Aragorn? It would only have worried him and complicated his healing. Of course Legolas had planned to tell him, but had shunted the difficult task of telling him. Swallowing nervously, Legolas tried to sound normal, "Do you remember that day, Estel? I mean, do you remember what happened?"

Aragorn grimaced and moved a hand through his dark hair, "Not really. I remember the things the orcs did to me." He shivered and held Legolas's hand more tightly. "But after that I can only remember my rescue. I remember how you cut my bonds and treated the wound in my arm. Then you leaned over me and told me that I was safe now." Aragorn smiled at Legolas in heartfelt gratefulness. "After that I must have lost consciousness for a moment, for I only remember very vaguely that you kissed me. And then, all went dark and the next thing I remember is waking up on the plains the next day."

The ice cold lump in Legolas's stomach turned into molten steel. It had not been him who had cut the bonds, freed Aragorn, treated his wounds and kissed him that day. And if Aragorn thought it had been him, then maybe he had confused Legolas with his rescuer. Legolas felt his skin crawl. '_Lithdal._' He thought. Aragorn's words confirmed his darkest assumptions. So it had been Lithdal who had rescued Aragorn from the orcs. The dangerous elf had followed them from Rivendell, had been so close that he had been able to sneak up on the orcs only minutes to the rescue party. What if Lithdal had followed them into Mirkwood? What if he was here already? What if Lithdal waited in the forest for them? Legolas felt a panic rise in him. They could not possibly go on a trip tomorrow when Lithdal was waiting outside the Palace. It was too dangerous.

Lost in his thoughts, Legolas suddenly felt a tug at his hair. Snapping his eyes up, he saw the bemused face of Aragorn looming before him. "What are you thinking, Legolas?" He asked with a smile. "I bet our kisses tonight were much better than the one that day. No need to dwell on thoughts about that night. Here, let me show you again how a kiss can feel." And then he leaned in and kissed Legolas's soundly.

Numerous thoughts battled for dominance in Legolas's mind, and after a few heartbeats he gently pushed Aragorn back. He needed to tell him of what had truly happened that day in the woods. Aragorn needed to know, now. "Estel, listen. There is something I have to tell you."

"Aye?" Aragorn said, brushing his dark hair behind his ears.

But before Legolas could say more, voices floated into the room from the corridor. From the sound of it, it was the King who talked with the guards patrolling the corridor. A moment later there was a knock at the door. Legolas and Aragorn exchanged a mortified look. With lightning speed, Aragorn jumped out of bed, collected his clothing and made a beeline for the bathing chamber. Legolas quickly made his way over to the mirror to make sure his attire sat well, then slowly opened the door. Indeed, it was King Thranduil who stood outside. Legolas led his father into the room, trying valiantly to ignore the sight of the unmade bed and the crumbled sheets.

"I came to ask whether you have been able to finish the preparations for tomorrow, Legolas. And if there is anything you need." The King paused and looked around the room. "Where is Estel?"

"I am here, your majesty." Aragorn called from the adjoining bathing chamber, "Just a moment."

The King nodded, and turned back to his son, "I will be caught up in meetings from before sunrise tomorrow, Legolas. I just wanted to wish you and Estel a safe journey."

"Thank you, father." Legolas said, hoping that Aragorn would emerge from the bathing chamber rather sooner than later. A moment later, the young man exited the bathing chamber, clad in his night clothing.

"Your majesty, I had not thought you would pay me a visit tonight, so forgive me my appearance. But we have to get up quite early tomorrow, so I fancy a good night's rest tonight. I was almost asleep when Legolas came to ask whether I was ready for the morrow."

Not for the first time Legolas had to be impressed by Aragorn's quick tongue. In no time the young human had not only come up with an explanation why Legolas was in his room so late at night, but also why the bed was unmade and Aragorn only dressed in his night clothing.

The King smiled slowly and nodded his head, "No problem young Elrondion. I deem it a wise decision to go to bed early before a journey. I wish you a good night, then, and of course an uneventful journey." And turning to Legolas, he took his son by the arm, "Come, ion nin. You should get some sleep as well."

And together, father and son bid Aragorn a good night and left the room. The opportunity to tell Aragorn of Lithdal, had gone.

To be continued.


	4. The guard outpost

Chapter 4: The guard outpost

Early the next morning, when the cooks were just entering the kitchens and the guards changed, Legolas was already dressed and making his way to the wing where the guards lived. He knew his way around here very well, for many of the warriors of Mirkwood were his friends. Without hesitation he stopped in front of a large oak door and knocked. The elf inside bade him to enter, which he did promptly.

Captain Galadsil would be in charge on their trip to the outpost, and Legolas deemed it a very good idea to inform the Captain that there was the possibility that Lithdal might follow them, mayhap even trying to attack them. Captain Galadsil listened without saying a word, his face grim. Of course the King had informed him of the threat that Lithdal posed to Legolas's life (although none had told him why Lithdal was a threat to begin with, but it was not his place to ask), and he had not taken the King's words lightly. But it had only been assumptions, and now he was faced with an imminent and very dangerous threat to the Prince's life. That was something that the Captain could not – and would not – ignore.

When Legolas finished his rushed explanations that maybe they should take more guards with them, that Galadsil must especially keep an eye on Aragorn, and that he thought it wise to take extra precautions, Captain Galadsil crossed his arms before his chest and frowned.

"My Prince, after all you have told me, wouldn't it be wise to cancel the trip? Surely it would be the better choice for you and the son of Elrond to stay inside the secure Palace walls until this threat has been removed?"

Grimacing, Legolas began to pace the room, "Well yes, I thought about that. But … I can't. You see Captain," Legolas sighed and turned to face the Captain, "Lord Estel is still recovering from his capture by the orcs. This trip will do him good. The fresh air, new experiences… And furthermore I…I have not yet told him that we have more than vague assumptions that Lithdal might have followed us from Imladris to Mirkwood. This knowledge would surely hinder his recovery, and I don't want that. If I cancelled this journey, he would question me why, and I cannot lie to him. And anyway, it is too late now."

The Captain gazed at Legolas for a few long minutes. He had known the Prince since his birth and had it been anyone else who had told him what Legolas had just told him, he would have outright refused to take them on the trip to the outpost. But Legolas usually thought his actions through, and never asked for something lightly. And if Legolas was of the opinion that Lord Elrond's son must not be told of the threat, but make the journey, then Captain Galadsil would not argue.

"Very well, Prince Legolas. It shall happen as you asked. But under one condition."

Legolas face brightened, "Yes?"

Captain Galadsil uncrossed his arms but gave Legolas a stern look, "I will put you in charge of Lord Elrond's son's wellbeing. You will stay at his side, make sure he does not leave the path, and keep an eye on him all the time. Make sure he understands the dangers of the forest. I will instruct my warriors to keep an eye on the forest and protect the two of you. But if there are any signs of someone following us, we will turn around right away."

Legolas listened and his heart felt lighter. Of course he could have simply ordered the Captain to take him and Aragorn on this trip, end of story, but he felt better with the Captain's consent. And he would gladly stay at Aragorn's side during the whole trip, making sure that his friend was alright. He nodded his head and smiled, "Thank you Captain Galadsil, I will gladly do as you ask. Now I must go and prepare for the trip. I will meet you in an hour at the gate."

It was with a lighter heart that Legolas left the Palace an hour later, with Aragorn at his side. Their party consisted of altogether thirteen elves, excluding Legolas: Silien, Merenor, Captain Galadsil and ten warriors. All of them wore cloaks and boots lined with fur as well as warm gloves to keep out the cold of the winter. Each of them carried a long bow and sword or knife. Of course, Aragorn wore a scarf as well as a woolen tunic over his normal winter tunic.

While the members of the party carried their eating utensils and sleeping rolls, it was a grey mule that carried all the other supplies and the goods they were bringing to the outpost. Legolas explained to Aragorn, that they could use neither horses nor carts to transport the supplies; carts got stuck on roots and were usually too wide to pass between the trees, and horses were too spooky in the dark forest. But mules, he explained, were tough and hardy, and easy to control if bribed with a bit of sweet food.

The path they were taking through the forest was heavily laden with snow, but the Captain easily picked a route where the snow only reached up to Aragorn's knees. Of course the elves had no trouble walking in the snow, for – in fact – they were walking atop of it. But Aragorn simply walked behind the mule, letting the animal do all the work, and so he had no real trouble keeping up with the elves.

Legolas never left his side, and the elf pointed out plants and trees, signs of animals and landmarks. Aragorn listened with growing admiration for the forest of Mirkwood and its inhabitants, asking numerous questions of his own. He did not notice that Legolas seemed more on guard than on their journey to Mirkwood, and that Silien and Merenor kept close to them as well all the time. The two Mirkwood warriors kept shooting glances at their surroundings, but they also filled in Legolas's stories and told snippets of their childhood. By the end of the first day, Aragorn considered Silien and Merenor good friends and companions. In their own way, they reminded Aragorn of his brothers Elladan and Elrohir; they were funny, a bit shrewd but reliable and caring at the same time.

At night, the group would rest under huge trees, where there was almost no snow due to the thick branches and the fleshy leaves (Legolas told Aragorn that the trees of Mirkwood never really lost their leaves, but that no one knew exactly why). They could not risk lighting a fire, for the orange glow would attract huge moths and maybe even the giant spiders of Mirkwood. While the elves seemed not to feel the cold, Aragorn soon froze horribly. Walking and talking had kept him warm during the day, but the inactivity at night cooled his body. The coldness of the snow crept into his bones, and he soon began to shiver. Legolas, noticing his discomfort, sat down close beside him and shared his cloak with him. And when all was dark and all but the night guards sleeping, Legolas would sneak his hands under Aragorn's shirt and rub his back and chest to keep him warm.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened during their trip until they were but a days walk from the outpost. Morning dawned dark and gloomy (even more so than usual), and Legolas stared at the sky with a deep frown on his face. "A storm is brewing."

"I fear so." Merenor sidled up to him and followed Legolas's gaze. "I fear it will hit us ere we reach the outpost."

Sighing, Legolas turned and looked at Aragorn. If the storm proved to be as bad as it looked now, Aragorn would have trouble bracing it. The level of the snow was making walking difficult for him as it was, and Legolas knew that Aragorn's leg that had been injured by the orcs, still hurt him sometimes at the end of the day. Additionally, it had not went unnoticed by Legolas that the cold was affecting his human friend; the man was pale and stiff, shivering under the heavy winter cloak. Legolas was unsure how Aragorn's already cold body would react to a fierce winter storm.

As if Merenor was able to read his thoughts, the elf placed a hand on Legolas's shoulder, "He is resilient, my friend. Don't worry. If we make haste, we will reach the outpost before the worst of the storm hits us."

Grateful for the words of support, Legolas nodded his head, "Let's hope you are right."

Sadly, Merenor was not. Around midday the forest darkened dramatically and the branches and tree trunks shut out all the light. From the glimpses they got from the sky, they assumed that the storm was right above them; the clouds were not only grey but yellow and green, promising heavy snowfall and lightning. The wind picked up, whipping around branches and twigs. A torrent of dry leaves, twigs and snow rained down on them from the boughs of the trees, and within minutes the wind was so strong, that they had to lean forwards to not fall over. The storm roared all around them, making conversation difficult.

But still they marched on, hoods drawn up and cloaks held tightly together, braving the storm. The mule screamed loudly and bucked, unwilling to go on, but a few whispered words from the elves and some dry plums convinced the animal to plough on. They still had hope to reach the outpost ere the worst of the storm hit them, and they quickened their pace.

As soon as the snowfall set in, they all knew that their hope of reaching the outpost in time had been in vain. At first only a few flakes fell, but within minutes the snow fell so fast and so thick, that Aragorn could barely make out the mule in front of him. His hair that had fallen free of his hood was covered in ice in moments, so cold it became, and the snow that hit his face felt like tiny stones. To make matters worse, the strong wind kept pushing his hood off of his head, and he had to hold it in place with his hands, which made walking even more difficult.

"How far is it to the outpost?" He asked Legolas, shouting to make his words heard over the roaring of the storm.

"Three hours at least." Legolas called back, "Maybe four."

Three hours was a long time when one was walking in a winter blizzard, and they all knew it. While the storm did not affect the elves very much, the flying snow and branches made it not any easier or comfortable for them or the mule. Legolas stayed at Aragorn's side, helping him to pick his way through the snow and the trees. More than once Aragorn slipped on unseen stones or roots, and Legolas had to quickly grab him so that he would not fall flat on his face. While the storm was getting worse, Aragorn slipped so often that Legolas simply kept his arm around Aragorn's waist to steady him, which – even under the circumstances – reminded them both of the last winter, when Legolas had declared his love for Aragorn.

With those thoughts in mind, the journey to the outpost was at least not too bad for Aragorn. While he was cold to the bone and shivering all over when they finally reached the outpost, he was in good spirits. The elves that manned the outpost welcomed them warmly, expressing their relief to see them all safe and sound despite the heavy storm. The outpost itself consisted of a number of tallyn that had been built high up in the trees, with rope ladders and wooden bridges connecting them to each other. While most flets had no surrounding walls, these had, probably as protection from spiders and other animals. Aragorn could count at least four flats, but he assumed that it were a few more.

As quickly as they could, the elves unloaded the supplies from the mule, then guided the animal to a small stall that had been built on the ground. The mule was rubbed down, fed and prepared for the night, while the elves – one by one – climbed up the rope ladder to one of the bigger flets.

Aragorn, cold to the bone and trembling all over, eyed the rope ladder with mixed feelings. The rope was swinging this way and that in the strong wind, and the wooden bars looked iced over. The elves seemed to have no trouble climbing up, but Aragorn was quite unsure if he could make it. His fingers felt numb to the core, and he doubted very much that he would be able to make a fist, let alone climb a swinging ladder. And furthermore, standing in the cold wind and snow without moving, if only for half an hour, had cooled him out again. To be honest, he felt as if he had turned into a snow man and wanted nothing more than to get up that talan, drink something hot and warm up.

While Aragorn watched, Silien and Merenor nimbly climbed the ladder and vanished inside the wooden talan. Another warrior followed them and then it was only Legolas and Aragorn left.

"Come Estel, let us get up and out of this wind. I have heard the guards will make a hearty stew tonight in honor of our safe arrival." Legolas looked around, scanning the forest with a nervous look. He was acutely aware of the fact that they were the only two left on the ground. "And it will be safer up there."

Not noticing Legolas's nervous scouting of their surroundings, Aragorn grimaced, "Legolas, how am I to climb that ladder? My fingers are frozen!"

Legolas eyed Aragorn up and down, noting the slightly blue lips, the pale face and the constant shiver. He thought for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders in apology, "There is only this way up, Estel. It is either the rope ladder or staying in the stall with the mule."

Aragorn shot a quick look at the small stall, but dismissed the idea immediately. With a deep sigh he stepped up to the rope ladder and gripped the lowest bar. As he had feared, his fingers would not follow his command to fist around it, and he released the bar and shook his hands to loosen the stiff muscles.

After a while he tried again, and with Legolas's help he finally managed to climb the rope ladder and reached the talan. As soon as he was out of the wind, the temperature rose a few degrees, and Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief. Only now did he realize how cold it had been outside. The talan he stood in was barely high enough so that he could stand, and it was smaller than he had deemed it to be from the ground. It was bare except of some weapons and spare ropes, indicating that it was only used as storage room.

Legolas, who had obviously been here before, led him towards a door and then over a wildly swinging wooden hanging bridge to a much bigger talan. Light streamed outside from under the door, and when they entered, Aragorn felt a wave of heat assault him. This talan was indeed much bigger than the other one, with a fire burning in the middle, and a few cots filled with straw standing at the side walls. There were small tables and benches strewn around the room, as well as chest high wardrobes. In the middle of the flet, Aragorn could see the huge trunk of the tree, and he realized that the flett had been built around the trunk. At the far end of the talan, a wooden stairway led up to another set of rooms.

Amazed at the size of the talan, Aragorn let his eyes travel here and there, taking all in. The thing that maybe astounded him the most was the fire, which seemed to burn in the middle of the room. Stepping closer, Aragorn saw that there was a hole in the wooden floor, with a clay bowl with a high rim set into it. Above the fire place, a hole had been cut into the ceiling, which's sides were plated with some kind of clay as well. This way, the elves could make a fire inside the talan without setting the whole tree on fire. Still, Aragorn wondered whether the clay and wood construction would not get too hot, so that it would set the tree on fire after all.

He was so fascinated by all he saw, that he barely noticed that he was introduced to the elves that guarded the outpost. Only when Legolas shoved him with his elbow did he look up. The five elves that guarded this post looked at him with polite smiles on their faces, each of them nodding his heads when he had his attention. Blushing a bit, Aragorn exchanged the formal greetings with them.

"You seem to be rather cold, friend." The Captain of the outpost warriors said, eyeing Aragorn's steaming clothing and the shivering of his body.

"Aye, I am. The weather outside is rather unfriendly." Aragorn replied, eying the fire and the water boiling over it longingly.

"Then why don't you change into something more comfortable and warm up, while we prepare the food?" The elf asked merrily, and gestured to the stairs at the end of the room. "Of course Prince Legolas will stay in my room during his stay. It is just up those steps." He smiled apologetically at Aragorn, "So I fear all I can offer to a son of Elrond is a warriors' quarter, which means a cot here in this very room. All the other flets are used as storage rooms for healing supplies, food and weapons."

Legolas quickly shook his head, "I don't need all that space just for me alone. I don't mind if Estel shares the room with me. It will be small with two people in there, but we will manage."

The Captain nodded his approval, and but a few minutes later Legolas opened the trap door to the upper room. Indeed, the room was not very big, but there was a bed and a wardrobe, as well as a small table with one chair. And, much to Aragorn's delight, the room was very warm, due to the fire burning in the room below that was warming the floor.

Legolas shoved Aragorn into the direction of the bed, then quickly sprinted down the stairs again and returned a moment later with their packs. He closed the door behind him, then made his way over to Aragorn who stood in front of the bed, shivering.

"Oh, you are frozen to the bone, Estel!" Legolas exclaimed as he touched the man's face. "You have to get out of these wet garments." And without further ado, Legolas began to shed Aragorn of his snowy and frozen clothing. Aragorn tried his best to help, but his fingers tingled badly now that he was in the warmth again, and he was not much help at all. As soon as the last piece of clothing fell to the ground, where it lay in a steaming heap, Legolas wrapped a blanked around Aragorn's shoulders and shoved him to sit on the bed. He tightened a fur around his shoulders, then pushed him flat down on the mattress. Legolas pointed a finger at Aragorn and said sternly, "Now, you stay under there until you are warm again, understood?"

"Yes, mother hen." Aragorn replied, but truth be told, he already felt his legs and feet tingle as the blood rushed back into them, and it felt wonderfully warm under the blankets. Although, it would feel much better if Legolas was under the covers with him. With those thoughts in mind, Aragorn watched in silence as Legolas shed his clothing as well, then quickly donned dry and clean ones. Aragorn sighed in mock disappointment when Legolas knotted the leather string that held his tunic closed.

Legolas turned and smiled, "Not yet, Estel. It would look suspicious if I did not reappear down there in a few minutes."

"I know, Legolas." Aragorn said, nodding. "And honestly, although I would love to right now, I doubt my body would do as I command it."

"Is it so bad?" Legolas asked worriedly and made his way over to the bed where he sat on its edge. "You are not getting ill, are you?" He felt the man's forehead with the back of his hand.

"No, I won't become ill." Aragorn said, smiling. "It was just terribly cold out there, with no fire or something warm to drink. Or body heat to share." He smiled wickedly at Legolas.

"You!" Legolas said happily and slapped Aragorn on the shoulder. "If you keep up like that they _will _worry where I am for so long." But nevertheless Legolas bent down, cupped Aragorn's face in his hands and kissed him softly. The kiss turned more passionate as both lovers felt the week of abstinence keenly in their bodies and hearts, and they only broke when there came a bout of laughter from downstairs, reminding them where they were.

"I need to get down." Legolas got to his feet and made his way over to the door. "I will call for you when the stew is ready." He threw Aragorn another big smile, then opened the door and vanished.

Aragorn lay in bed, wrapped in blankets and furs, warming up. While he waited for his body to un-freeze, he had – maybe for the first time since he had arrived in Mirkwood – the chance to contemplate everything that had happened to him in the last weeks. His time in Mirkwood had been enjoyable so far; he had met numerous new people, had learned a lot about life in Mirkwood, and even made two new friends, Silien and Merenor. And while Legolas had not yet told his father of their relationship, Aragorn had the feeling that the King had taken a liking to him, and would surely not be too upset when Legolas finally told him. When that would be, however, Aragorn did not know, but Legolas had assured him that it would be no later than the Winter Solstice celebrations. His father was usually in a very good mood in those days (not last caused by the quantity of fine wine that was served).

When Aragorn thought about Legolas, he smiled unconsciously. Their relationship, tentative at first and very fragile, had turned into a true love relationship. While he felt immensely physically attracted to Legolas, the more time passed, the more this attraction certainly did not dim, but to it were added even deeper feelings. It seemed that the more time passed, the deeper their bond became, and it changed from a mostly physical relationship to an attraction to Legolas's inner being. Aragorn was not sure whether Legolas felt the same, but he hoped so.

Legolas character was so multi-facetted that Aragorn sometimes wondered who the true Legolas was. On the outside, the Prince often seemed cold and aloof, except when he was with friends. Aragorn knew that Legolas was in no way cold or aloof, and that it was a show for strangers; to keep them away, block them and himself out of trouble. And, Aragorn mused, there was this sweet and innocent smile, right there in the corner of Legolas's mouth that seemed to be reserved only for him. Indeed, Aragorn loved all of Legolas's character traits, from his love for archery to his dislike of rhubarb pie (although Legolas had never told him why he hated the dish). Yes, Aragorn thought while he warmed up, he was very lucky indeed that Legolas had chosen him. Had it not been for the issue with Lithdal and their subsequent mistrust troubles, the start and continuance of their relationship could have been called almost perfect.

As soon as Aragorn thought of Lithdal, his stomach tightened. He did not want to think of that elf, and what he had done. It brought up bad and dark memories that Aragorn wished to forget, but could not. Again and again thoughts of Lithdal popped up in his mind, without his conscious doing, and he hated it. Lithdal was somewhere out there, yes, but that did not mean that he elf was still after him. Maybe he had been captured and killed by orcs, eaten by a bear or broken his neck because he had tumbled down a mountain. Who knew? How big were the chances that Lithdal was ever coming back to hurt him or Legolas? '_The chances are very good, given that twisted mind of his_', a soft voice in the back of Aragorn's mind told him.

He had barely thought of the former messenger during his stay in Mirkwood, his mind being overloaded with new impressions and images, and his body had been tired from his numerous walks around the Palace. But he knew that he would never be able to forget Lithdal completely, for as long as the elf was still free… He shook his head violently to free him of those dark musings, but it did not help. His good mood was shattered and he knew that it would not return.

With a sigh, Aragorn decided that he could as well get up and down, where he could hear raised voices and soft laughter. Maybe the company would chase away the dark thoughts. He got out of bed, donned dry clothing, and then made his way down the staircase. He was greeted by laughter and a bowl of hot stew, and a few minutes later, all thoughts of Lithdal were forgotten.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

It was late at night, hours after midnight, when a dark figure approached the trunk of the tree that housed the flet. The figure was silent as a wraith and cloaked in dark green colors that matched those of the trees around him. It left no footprints in the snow, for it was an elf who could walk atop of it. The storm was howling all around him, but the elf did not care. The object of his plans and musings was sleeping only a stone throw away from him, right up that tree.

With a longing smile on his lips, Lithdal touched the trunk of the tree, so as if he could feel the presence of the one he sought through the tree. He closed his eyes and imagined his love, lying all naked in the bed just up that tree, curled up in soft furs and sleeping soundly. Lithdal shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold.

He had been able to enter Mirkwood forest undetected, and then even been able to follow the group of elves all the way from the Palace to this outpost. He was very good at what he was doing, Lithdal knew. In his years as the King's messenger he had often been forced to find a way through the most dangerous of territories, and he knew this forest as well as the back of his hand. In all his long years he had maybe travelled a few thousand times through this part of the woods on his way to the South, and it had been no problem to keep up with the group of warriors and the one human. It had been easy, indeed.

Lithdal opened his eyes and looked up. He could barely make out some light between the branches, and knew that they would have all gone to bed, except of course the guards. While he had been following the group, Lithdal had thought long and hard how he could get to Estel, his love. Legolas seemed to stay at his side at all times, as if the young man was his possession, and there had been no opportunity to get close to him, not even at night.

When he thought of Legolas, Lithdal felt his insides churn with hatred. He knew that Legolas did not truly love the man, but that he was just toying with him, keeping him as some kind of pet, to be adored and played with, then cast to the side, broken and hurt, to be abandoned by all. Lithdal grimaced, his twisted mind screaming at him to get rid of Legolas as soon as an opportunity arose.

Yes, an opportunity was all he needed, but there were few. Lithdal knew that it would be as good as impossible to enter the Palace, for there were many more guards on duty than usual. He wondered briefly why that was so, but decided quickly that it did not matter. If he really wanted to enter the Palace, he would find a way, but it was dangerous. He would only use it as a last resort.

This talan, on the other hand, could prove to be a better opportunity. There was only one guard on duty, and if he could manage to get past him, the chances were good that he found Estel, freed him of Legolas (and kill the troublesome elf in the process, if possible), and then escape into the woods. The warriors would never find him once he had vanished in the forest, for he knew hiding places and caves they did not. Lithdal spared no thought to the fact that Estel probably did not want to go with him, for in his sick mind, Lithdal was of the strong opinion that Estel loved him, and would follow him wherever he went, once he was free of Legolas.

Having made up his mind, Lithdal slowly circled the base of the trunk, looking for a way up. Of course the elves had pulled up the rope ladder, but being a wood-elf, a tree posed no obstacle to him. But Lithdal had not taken the mule into account. When he neared the small stable, the mule scented him and began to scream in agitation. Above him , Lithdal saw a torch being lit, and a moment later he could make out a slender figure that leaned over the balustrade and looked down intently. Cursing under his breath, Lithdal pressed his body against the tree, hoping that he was not detected. The mule kept screaming, and Lithdal knew that it would now be impossible for him to climb the tree undetected.

When the opportunity arose, he sprinted into the dark forest, leaving no trace of his presence. '_Soon,_' he vowed, '_my time will come._'

To be continued.


	5. Spiders

Chapter 5: Spiders

Aragorn, Legolas, Silien, Merenor and all the other warriors spent nearly a week at the outpost. When the storm set, Legolas, Silien and Merenor took Aragorn on short trips around the area, showing him the forest and explain the defenses the elves of Mirkwood had set up so close to the southern border of the realm. They never strayed out of sight of the outpost, and Legolas made sure that Aragorn was never unobserved. If he could not join Aragorn on his short wanderings, he would make sure that either Silien or Merenor did. When his old friends wondered what this many security measures were all about, they did not ask.

When a week had passed, the time had come to return to the Palace. They packed their belongings in the evening, then gathered round the fire in the great room of the talan.

They all shared one last hearty meal, before it was time to go to bed. During the week, Legolas had slept on the ground, leaving the bed to Aragorn, who needed the warmth more than he. Both agreed that it would not do if someone found them in an intimate situation, and they knew it would surely come to that if they shared the bed. They had not been intimate since they had left the Palace two weeks ago, and both lovers felt their bodies react to the simplest of touches from the other.

So, as usual, Aragorn flopped down on the bed, tired but excited at the prospect of travelling back to the Palace. Yawning, he shrugged out of his shirt, breeches and undid his boots, before he climbed under the blankets. He had drunk a bit too much wine that evening, and his head spun slightly. Yawning again, he rolled to his side and closed his eyes. When Legolas entered the room only minutes later, he was almost asleep. Closing the door behind him, Legolas bolted it silently, and then shed his clothing. On bare feet he moved to the side of the bed, and then quietly and quickly wriggled under the covers beside Aragorn.

Immediately wide awake, Aragorn shifted back, so to give Legolas more space, and cocked an eyebrow in question. Legolas blushed a bit, then smiled back. His voice was barely above a whisper when he answered, "I just could wait no longer, Estel. Another week without you is entirely too long." He traced his slender forefinger across Aragorn's stubbly cheek, sighing. In response, Aragorn hugged Legolas closer and kissed him full on the mouth. They kissed for a very long time, only breaking it to gasp for breath.

"We have to be very silent." Legolas said, his eyes flickering to the trap door. Aragorn, his face flushed, nodded in understanding. That night they made love very slowly and silently, each of them aware that they were not alone in the talan. Maybe it was the sense of danger or the need to keep absolutely silent, but both lovers felt this love making more intense than anything they had done before. When Aragorn found his release, he came so strongly that it nearly hurt, and his whole body shook with pleasure for minutes afterwards. Legolas did not fare any better. When Aragorn came, he felt his own member throb horribly, and he came with such intensity that he bit his bottom lip to refrain from shouting out loud. Drained but sated as they had never been before, Legolas and Aragorn finally fell asleep side by side, safe in the others embrace, for the first time since they had left Rivendell so many weeks ago.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

The journey back to the Palace seemed to be as uneventful as the journey to the guard outpost had been. The weather stayed very cold, but it did not snow again, and there was barely any wind. Halfway home, they rested near some mighty trees around midday for a quick meal, then continued on their way northwards.

Legolas, walking beside Aragorn, kept shooting glances at their surroundings, while he told Aragorn of his first patrols and trips to the human inhabitation Lake-town. "It really is a sight to behold, Estel. The whole town is build on a wooden construction that reaches out far into the lake. If you did not know better, you would assume that the town swims on the lake."

"Do you think we could go there in the spring, when the weather is better?" Aragorn asked excitedly. He remembered the stories he had been told about Lake-town, as well as the pictures in his father's books. The prospect of visiting this city appealed strongly to him.

Legolas smiled and nodded, "Why not? It would be an opportunity for me to show you the northern lands. We could probably even…"

But what it was that they could probably do on a trip to Lake-town, Aragorn never heard, for in that moment, something black and furry, as big as a dog and fast as a bird, fell from the snowy branches right above them. It landed on the back of the mule that plowed through the snow in front of them, screeching. Shocked, Aragorn saw that it was a great spider. Before anyone could react, the beast plunged its black glistening sting into the neck of the mule, drawing blood immediately. The mule bawled and bucked, panicked in its pain and fear. And then, numerous things happened at once.

The guards screamed and drew their swords, while Legolas pulled his knives from their sheaths and in one fluid motion killed the spider that attacked the helpless mule. But it was too late. The spider's venom had already reached the bloodstream of the unfortunate animal, and with a last panicked bawl the mule's front legs sagged away under it, and it fell to its side where it lay, convulsing. A moment later, it lay completely still, paralyzed by the poison. Aragorn had heard enough about the poison of the Mirkwood spiders to know their venom was deadly if the wound was not treated immediately.

Aragorn drew his sword as well. For a moment he stared at the dead spider, shocked by its size and bold attack. So far he had not encountered any of the foul beasts, but upon seeing this vile creature, he realized that his brothers had not exaggerated when telling him about them. These creatures truly were larger than dogs, and more resembled little ponies. The spider's clear blood soaked the snow all around it, and Aragorn wondered what the spider had been trying to achieve by its attack. What could one single spider do against a group of armed warriors? Had Legolas not told him that the giant spiders of Mirkwood were smart hunters?

A moment later, Aragorn understood. There was a warning shout from one of the warriors, and a moment later the snow rustled all around them. One, two, three spiders appeared between the trees, and more and more kept coming. Soon, the group was surrounded by a mass of black bodies, all hissing and snapping their pincers in expectation. Legolas, knives raised and ready to fight, drew close to Aragorn. "Whatever you do, stay close to me. I will protect you, Estel."

Aragorn nodded and swallowed, eying the mass of black bodies all around them. He gripped his sword tighter and spread his legs to gain a more secure stance for the imminent attack. "Where are those beasts most vulnerable, Legolas?"

"Always go for the head if you can. If that is not possible, try to hit them at their underside, their belly is almost unprotected. But don't get near its sting."

Before Legolas could give more advice, the first row of spiders attacked. In one great sea of bodies, they flooded towards the elves. Many fell under the sharp blades of the elves, but more kept coming. The elves tried to maintain a protective circle, but the more spiders came, the more difficult it became to hold position. Soon, the first spiders broke through the circle, and the fight became a chaos of screaming elves, spattering blood and dying spiders.

When the first row of spiders attacked, Aragorn did as Legolas had told him, and aimed for the spider's head. The first animal that approached him died within seconds, as did the second. After that, the spiders seemed to regroup, coming from various sides at one. Aragorn blocked and stabbed, trying to kill the beasts that attacked him, but with the high snow and his unsecure footing, it was difficult. While the elves walked atop the snow with ease, Aragorn stood knee deep in the white mass, which made quick movements almost impossible.

It was but a few minutes into the fight, when the high snow proved to be a very dangerous disadvantage. Blocking a pincer from a spider in the last minute, Aragorn heard a hiss to his left. He twisted around, ready to kill the spider that attacked him, but he was not fast enough. The thick snow slowed his movements, and he was still turning, when he felt something sharp and long graze his side. Grunting at the pain, he twisted around fully, killing the spider that attacked him. The beast squealed and curled into itself before it died.

Aragorn panted. The wound to his side hurt, and he instinctively pressed a hand onto the wound. Due to his thick gloves he could not tell how bad the injury was bleeding, but he was rather sure that he had not been stung by the spider, for the wound did not feel like that. And, he was still standing, a sure sign that he was not poisoned. Suddenly, a hand clamped around his upper arm, drawing him back.

"Estel, watch out!" Legolas's voice shouted into his ear, and a moment later a huge spider landed in the snow right where Aragorn had stood a moment before. Legolas killed the spider with two quick thrusts of his knives. "Estel, stay close to me." All Aragorn could do was nod in thanks, for another spider chose that moment to attack. He killed it with a mighty swing of his sword, severing the head of the spider from its body.

Panting, he faced the mass of spiders, seeing the next beast advance on him. He blocked the sharp pincers, turned, thrust his sword downward, killing another of the foul creatures. But it was not the last spider that attacked him. For every spider he killed or wounded, two more seemed to take its place, and Aragorn was soon surrounded by dead and dying spiders. He felt his legs and arms tire, and sweat rolled down his face despite the cold. He knew that the snow and the cold was slowing him down, sapping his strength, and he hoped dearly that the attack would soon be over.

As soon as there was a natural pause in the fight, Aragorn wiped his sweaty brow and took a quick look around. His companions were all still fighting, and from what he could tell, none of the elves was seriously hurt. Silien and Merenor were fighting close to Legolas and himself, their faces grim and their swords bloody. The elves had created a ring formation, so that their backs were protected, but numerous of the spiders had been able to break through the formation, and while Aragorn watched, two more managed to get behind the elves's back, attacking them. They were quickly killed, but the formation slowly broke up. Aragorn knew that it was only a matter of time before one of the spiders managed to sting someone.

As if this dark thoughts had been a foreboding, a surprised shout filled the clearing. Shocked, Aragorn turned around to where Legolas had been fighting beside him. His eyes widened in fear at what he saw. A huge black spider sat on Legolas's back, its glistening sting buried deep into Legolas's side. Screaming, Legolas stumbled and fell to the ground, weighed down by the spider's body. He twisted his arm around and plunged one of his twin knives deep into the spider, killing it. The beast curled into itself, then lay still.

His heart going a mile a minute, Aragorn watched as Legolas regained his feet, his face pale. For a moment, he stared at the dead spider at his feet, then lifted his head. His eyes bored into Aragorn's, shock, surprise and disbelieve etched into his face. And then, in a slow motion, his knees buckled under him and he sank to the ground. His body began to shake uncontrollably from the poison that flowed through his veins.

"Legolas!" Aragorn's shout echoed from the trees, full of fear and pain. He could not believe his eyes, could not fathom that what he saw was true. How could Legolas be stung by a spider? That was just not possible.

Before he knew what he was doing, he swung his sword in one big arc around him, keeping the approaching spiders at bay, then made his way over to where Legolas had fallen. Although he plowed through the snow as quickly as he could, the spiders were faster. When Aragorn reached the now still body of his friend, another spider crawled on Legolas's back, ready to sting once more. With a grunt of disgust, Aragorn buried his sword in the spider's belly, throwing it away from his fallen lover. Trusting that his companions would cover his back and make sure that no more spiders attacked him and Legolas, Aragorn kneeled down in the cold snow.

He turned Legolas's face around, "Legolas! Legolas, answer me!" But the elf was unresponsive, and lay absolutely still in his arms; his face was strangely pale, while bright red blood, mixed with the black venom of the spider, poured from the wound in his back.

"No, oh please. Legolas, don't do that to me, please." Aragorn shook the Prince, but nothing happened. His eyes were closed and his face seemed to get paler by the minute.

Knowing that panicking would not help now, Aragorn lay Legolas down on the snow and took a deep breath. Just like it had a few weeks ago when Legolas had been wounded by the orcs, Aragorn's healer knowledge rushed to the forefront of his mind. Ignoring the shouts of the elves around him and the hissing of the spiders, Aragorn concentrated on Legolas.

With gentle care but still quickly, he turned Legolas so that he lay on his stomach. Moving the cloak to the side, he ripped the already slashed tunic and shirt open to reveal the wound. He could clearly see where the spider had stung; it looked like a deep hole in the flesh, just under Legolas's shoulder blade. But there was not just a hole, but a long cut as well. It seemed that Legolas, in his attempt to free himself from the spider, had caused the sting to cut his skin. The wound was half as long as Aragorn's forearm, and bleeding heavily. At the top of the cut, where it was deepest, the black poison mingled with the red blood.

Without thinking, Aragorn pressed his hands against the wound, trying to squeeze out as much of the poison as he could. When he realized that this did not work properly, he bend down, clamped his mouth around the deepest part of the cut, right where the spider had stung, and sucked hard. Spitting out a mouthful of blood and venom, he repeated the process three times. When he next checked the wound, there was almost no black poison left. Bending low one more time, he sucked at the wound, feeling metallic tasting blood in his mouth, as well as something that tasted horribly foreign. He was just to turn and spit out, when a heavy weight landed on his back.

He gasped in surprise, swallowing the mouthful of blood and venom in the process. Aragorn gagged and coughed, and felt something heavy and hairy sit on his back. Knowing that it could only be a spider, he swung his arm around. His fist hit something hard, causing jolts of pain to shoot through his fingers. He looked around wildly for his sword, but it was buried under the snow where he had dropped it in his haste. The spider hissed above him, ready to sting. Aragorn twisted to the side, trying to shake the spider off, but the beast held on tightly. Just when Aragorn thought that it was over, the spider squealed, the weight was lifted from his back, and the spider landed in the snow with a dull thud. Panting, Aragorn saw a dagger sticking out of its head.

Turning his head, he saw Merenor nodding at him, his face grim. A cut marred his otherwise flawless cheek, and a moment later the elf threw himself back into the battle. Aragorn saw that Silien and Merenor seemed to have taken it upon themselves to protect him and Legolas, and Aragorn was grateful for their skill with swords and knives. Numerous spiders lay dead at their feet, and from what Aragorn could see, both elves were forcing the spiders back, step by step.

With the spider that had attacked him dead, Aragorn turned his attention back to Legolas. Pressing at the wound, he saw bright red blood flow from the cut; the black venom was gone. But being a healer, Aragorn knew that enough of the deadly poison had entered Legolas's bloodstream. Sucking out the excess poison had bought Legolas time, but not life. Aragorn quickly looked around. He needed to find some anti-venom, and quickly. Most of the elven warriors usually carried it, but when they had set out days ago, they had entrusted the mule with all their gear, including the healing supplies.

His eyes moved from right to left, panic rising in him. He needed the anti-venom, now! Suddenly, his eyes found the mule. The animal was lying only a few feet from him, packs and gear still attached to its back. Hoping that Silien and Merenor would protect Legolas, Aragorn made his way over to the mule as fast as he could. He was lucky and no spider assaulted him while he plowed through the thick snow. When he was but a foot away from the animal, he could see that it was dead already. Its eyes were glassy, the body rigid.

In a flash of horror Aragorn saw Legolas's lifeless body before him, eyes open in death, void of their inner sparkle. Snow was piling on his face and body, dragging him into the deep. Aragorn shook his head violently. This would not happen, not to Legolas! Falling down beside the mule, he searched the packs as quickly as he could. His fingers were slow and numb from the cold, and it was impossible for him to feel anything inside the packs. With a growl of frustration and anger, he pulled the protecting gloves from his fingers, then resumed his search. When his fingers finally closed around the small bottle that contained the anti-venom, he almost sobbed in relief.

He made his way back to Legolas's side as fast as he could. The Prince lay where he had left him, still and pale. Blood drenched the white snow beside him and was trickling down slowly. It was the only sign that his friend and lover was still alive. Uncorking the bottle with his teeth, Aragorn poured the anti-venom onto the wound, shaking the bottle until the last drop dropped out of it. Then, he pulled his scarf from around his neck and pressed it against the wound, hoping and praying that he had been fast enough, and that the anti-venom had not been used too late.

Around him, the fight against the spiders continued, but the sounds were getting softer. Looking up from his task of stopping the bleeding, Aragorn was surprised to see that few spiders were left. The elves were slowly rounding the creatures up, killing them one by one and making sure that none could escape.

With the knowledge that the fight was over and that the spiders were no threat any longer, Aragorn leaned over the wound once more. Red blood dripped over his fingers from where it had soaked through the scarf, and Aragorn cursed under his breath. He doubled his efforts and pressed the makeshift bandage down harder, trying to stop the cut from bleeding. He felt sick to the stomach, as if his body was reacting to the sight before him.

His heart beat so quickly in his chest that his hands began to shake. Thousands of thoughts raced through his mind, but they were all meaningless and did not connect to each other. The only thing that mattered to him was Legolas. Soon, a mantra filled his mind, 'He will make it', 'he will make it', ' he will make it'. Aragorn was so concentrated on Legolas, that he startled violently when Merenor put his hand on his shoulder.

Looking up, eyes wide in shock and surprise, Aragorn gazed up into the face of the elf. The blood from the cut on his cheek had already dried, leaving dark brown stains behind. Otherwise, Merenor seemed to be unhurt. The elf looked at Legolas with worry in his eyes, his face paling at the sight of the blood.

"I saw him being bitten by a spider." Merenor rasped, his voice unsteady. With shaking fingers, the elf searched for a pulse, sighing in relief when he found one. "You did give him the anti-venom?" Merenor turned pleading eyes on Aragorn, who nodded quickly.

"Aye, I gave it to him as fast as I could. But I don't know if it was fast enough." Aragorn gazed down at Legolas, holding the scarf in place. When he turned his head back to Merenor, the elf was biting his bottom lip, eyes fixed on the still form of the Prince. For a tiny moment, Aragorn meant to see more than just concern for a dear friend in Merenor's eyes, but the emotion was gone too quickly for Aragorn to be sure.

"We need to stop the bleeding, bandage the wound, and then keep Legolas warm." Merenor said. He moved a hand through his hair and got to his feet. "Keep the scarf in place, Estel. I get the bandages." And then he was gone, leaving Aragorn and Legolas alone.

Aragorn did as he was told, and when Merenor returned, Silien at his side, the wound had stopped bleeding. With the help of the two elves, Aragorn bandaged the wound on Legolas's back, and then wrapped him in a blanket. Not once did Legolas so much as twitch and Aragorn felt his heart drop into his stomach. What if the anti-venom had been applied too late? What if Legolas would not make it? This could not be true, it just could not happen like that.

"The Palace if three days away." Silien said, looking around at the dead spiders. "There will be more of those foul creatures. They are drawn to the blood of the dead like scavengers."

Merenor nodded his head and tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear, "I will talk to the Captain. Stay with Legolas." He gave Legolas a long look, then briskly turned and made his way over to Galadsil, who stood at the edge of the fighting ground.

When Merenor was gone, Aragorn focused his attention back on Legolas. How pale he was…His skin was almost as white as the snow around him, his darker eyelashes contrasting starkly with his skin. He looked younger, if that was possible with an elf, and Aragorn felt the need to touch him. He had already reached out to caress Legolas's cheek, when he remembered that Silien stood next to him, and he quickly turned his gesture into one that suggested that he was checking Legolas's temperature.

Sighing inwardly in frustration, Aragorn sat back in the snow. How could this have happened? Why had Legolas not taken better care of himself? Why had he the spider not seen coming? Aragorn wiped his hand across his sweaty forehead, surprised to see that he was trembling. Thinking that it was the rush of the fight that was still racing through his veins, he swiped his hands at his trousers and thought nothing of it.

"Are you alright, Estel?" Silien asked, concern evident in his voice.

Aragorn nodded reflexively, never taking his eyes from Legolas. "I'm fine. I didn't get stung."

Silien said nothing to that and a moment later Merenor returned, bringing the Captain with him. "We will leave here immediately. Galadsil knows a cave not far from here, there we can rest for a while." Merenor pointed over his shoulder into the forest, "The cave is a mile, maybe two from here. We should have no problem reaching it. We will rest there, make a stretcher for Legolas, then resume our journey to the Palace."

While he spoke, Merenor crouched down next to Legolas's lifeless form. His eyes seemed to be glued to the pale face, and to his surprise, Aragorn saw that Merenor made the same gesture he had made only minutes prior, so as if the elf wanted to caress Legolas's cheek, but then thought better of it. Aragorn's last doubts faded at the sight, and he simply knew right then and there that Merenor and Legolas had been more than just friends. To his surprise, in that very moment, he did not really care, as long as Legolas made it through this.

A few minutes later, the group of warriors was ready to leave. Since there was no time to build a stretcher, they decided that Merenor would carry Legolas to the cave. With the help of Silien, Merenor hoisted Legolas onto his shoulders, rearranging his weight until he had a firm grip on the prone body. With a determined expression on his face, Merenor nodded at Silien and Aragorn, before he turned and slowly walked away.

Aragorn watched him go, then climbed to his feet. Suddenly, a fierce pain exploded in his stomach, and with a hiss of pain he crumbled to the ground. Wrapping his arms around his middle, Aragorn snapped his eyes shut and groaned. The pain was fierce, crawling up into his chest and down his legs.

"Estel? What is it? Are you hurt?" Concern swung in Silien's voice and the elf crouched down next to the young man, placing his hand on his shoulder.

In too much pain to speak, Aragorn just shook his head in confusion. The pain intensified, robbing his breath. He could feel his insides catch fire, and his head began to spin from lack of breath. Groaning, he slowly toppled forwards. Silien quickly reached out and caught him before he could land in the cold snow, his voice strangely soft, so as if he was far away, "Estel? Estel!"

And then, blessed darkness engulfed Aragorn, and he knew no more.

To be continued.


	6. Changes

Chapter 6: Changes

Aragorn was not sure what woke him, the pain in his stomach or the pounding of his head. His stomach felt as if a fire-breathing dragon had taken up residence there, while a hammer swinging dwarf lived inside his skull. With every beating of his heart, his head and stomach hurt fiercely, and Aragorn wished he could sink back into the darkness, where there was no pain.

But it was not to be, for now that he had left the darkness behind him, his treacherous body hurled him towards full consciousness. After a few moments, Aragorn could hear soft voices, talking somewhere close to him. He could not understand what they were saying, and he was too tired to make any real effort to find out. Surely, if they were discussing something of importance, they would wake him.

As if that thought triggered his memories, pictures of the fight with the spiders, Legolass injury and the black venom that had poured from his wound raced through his mind. With a mental gasp, Aragorn remembered what had happened. Was Legolas alright? Had he applied the anti-venom on time? While he had hoped to fall asleep only moments ago, Aragorn now wanted nothing more than to fully wake up, so that he could see Legolas.

Aragorn slowly reached full consciousness, for with every breath he took, the pain in his body intensified. Finally, he managed to blink his eyes open. His eyelids seemed to weigh tons, and he could see nothing at first. Blinking sluggishly, he turned his head. He saw nothing but a grey fog that clouded his vision, but a few seconds later soft footsteps neared his position. He could make out a brighter spot in the grayness, and a moment later someone touched his forehead.

"Good, you are awake. We were worried." It took Aragorn a moment to recognize Silien's voice. The hand travelled to his neck, feeling his pulse, before it slid behind his head and lifted it. A cup was placed at his lips, "Drink, Estel. Your body needs the water to wash out the poison."

Aragorn drank eagerly, only now realizing just how thirsty he was. The fog cleared before his eyes, and he gazed sluggishly at Silien's concerned face. "Poison?" He rasped, surprised to find his voice that scratchy and weak.

Silien nodded, "Aye, poison. You swallowed some when you treated Legolas's wound, did you not?"

Aragorn nodded weakly, wishing that his stomach would stop hurting so much. The water had helped to clear his headache somewhat, making thinking easier. "Yes. A spider attacked me and I swallowed reflexively."

"That is what we thought." Silien smiled down at him, "Luckily for you we still had some of the anti-venom. We also cleaned and bandaged the cut on your side."

"But…I only swallowed the poison." Aragorn frowned in confusion. Legolas had told him before the trip that the poison of the spiders was only deadly if it reached the victim's blood stream.

"The poison might not be deadly when digested, but it certainly is painful. The anti-venom alleviates the pain and the other symptoms."

If what he felt were alleviated symptoms of the poison, then Aragorn hoped he would never feel the real effects of it. He felt as if a mumakil had sat on him for a day or two. Swallowing, Aragorn tried to sit up, and Silien quickly helped him into an upright position. The world spun worryingly around him for a moment, before it became stationary. Looking around, Aragorn saw that he was in the back of a small cave. A few yards away, a tiny fire had been lit, and the rest of the group was sitting or standing around it. Aragorn could just make out the entrance to the cave; it was pitch black outside, and from the sound of it, snowing heavily. He coudl make out the Captain and Merenor, but there was no sight of Legolas.

His eyes darting around the cave before him, Aragorn felt fear rise in his stomach. Where was Legolas? They had not left him behind, had they? Surely his friend, his lover, had not died? This could not have happened, it could not have!

"Where is Legolas?" Aragorn asked, gripping Silien's arm so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"He is lying right beside you, Estel. Look." Silien gently turned Aragorn's head to the left. Beside him, wrapped in blankets and his head bedded on a leather pack, lay Legolas. His chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and if Aragorn was not very much mistaken, his face had regained some color.

Breathing out heavily, Aragorn let go of Silien's arm. "For a moment I thought I had lost him." He breathed, his eyes glued to his lover's face. He was so fixed on Legolas, that he never realized what he had said, but a knowing smile crossed Silien's face.

"Don't worry, Estel. Legolas is strong and you were right on time with the anti-venom. He will make it."

Aragorn only nodded, for already he felt slightly woozy again. The pounding in his head came back with a vengeance, and his stomach burned horribly. Slowly, he lay back down again, only now realizing that he was lying on some folded blankets and cloaks that had been supplied by the elves. He wrapped his arms around his middle, drew up his knees and rolled onto the side to deal with the pain, and a moment later he fell asleep again. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him, was Legolas's sleep relaxed face.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Early the next morning, the elves gently laid Legolas down on the stretcher that they had made. The Prince had yet to wake up, and Aragorn began to fear that Silien had not told him the whole truth, that Legolas would not wake up at all. But the other elves reassured him, telling him that it was normal to sleep for so long after being stung by a spider. While Aragorn believed them, he could not help his inner fears, and so he opted to walk beside the stretcher, instead of lying down on the one the elves had made for him, too. He wanted to be close to Legolas, to be able to see his face and talk to him when he woke up.

Walking through the deep snow was tiresome, now that the mule was gone, but Aragorn trudged on determinedly. The wound on his side where the spider had grazed him did not hurt at all, and his headache was gone. His stomach, on the other hand, still troubled him. While the pain was gone, he felt incredibly sick, fearing that he would have to throw up every now and then. The more he moved, the worse it got, but not even Silien's worried gaze or gentle words could convince him to be carried by the elves. He needed to stay close to Legolas, needed to see his pale face. And if that meant that he had to endure some discomfort, then so be it.

But while Aragorn's mind was strong, his body was not. A few hours after midday, his vision began to swim and within seconds his whole body was drenched in cold sweat. Aragorn breathed in deeply. For some long moments he battled with the churning in his stomach, but it was a vain attempt. Turning to the side as quickly as he could, he fell to his knees and threw up violently. Strong arms circled around his waist and held back his hair. When he spat into the snow for the last time, a flask of water was pressed into his hands.

"Rinse your mouth with it, but do not swallow any. Your stomach would not thank you if you do." Silien advised him, not yet letting go of him. And Aragorn was thankful for the support. His body trembled slightly, and he felt weak and wobbly. He nodded his thanks and rinsed his mouth with the cold water. With Silien's support he got to his feat, swaying unsteadily.

"Maybe we should rest for a while." The elf said, glancing at his companions, who waited quietly for them.

"No." Aragorn shook his head and took a few deep breaths. "Legolas needs to get to the Palace as soon as possible. I'll be fine." He took a step away from Silien to demonstrate that he was feeling better, but nearly landed face first in the snow, had it not been for the elf's quick reflexes.

"I don't think you are fine, Estel. And don't try to pretend otherwise." Silien gave him a stern look, before he wrapped his arm around his waist in a supportive gesture. "Spider venom is dangerous, Estel, and you will feel its effects for at least some days."

Letting his brave façade drop (for he truly felt miserable right now), Aragorn looked up at the elf, "Days?" He asked faintly, feeling sick again.

"Aye, days. So save your strength, for you will need it." Silien tightened his grip on him when Aragorn swayed a bit and gripped his stomach. "Are you going to be sick again?"

"No, I don't think so." Aragorn said, but he was not so sure about that. His stomach might not hurt right now, but he had never felt that sick before. It was as if he had not only eaten too much (although he had not eaten since the day before), but all that food wanted to get out as soon as possible. He closed his eyes and hung his head, breathing in through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. It was a technique his father had taught him, and he hoped that it would work. But when the sickness did not vanish, Aragorn sighed and shook his head in defeat.

"Are you ready to move on, then?" Silien asked him and looked down on him with a frown on his face. "If you need to rest, just say so and we will stop."

"No, I am…" He wanted to say 'fine', but the glare on Silien's face stopped him, and he finished his sentence with "…ready to go."

And so the group of warriors resumed their journey to the Palace of Mirkwood, albeit at a slower pace. Aragorn had to stop numerous times, feeling too sick to go on, but whenever that happened, Silien was at his side, supporting him in any way he could. When night fell, they rested in a small glade, but did not dare to light a fire. Cold, achy and sick, Aragorn soon fell asleep, hoping that tomorrow would bring relief to his worries and sickness.

And indeed, when the gloom of night faded into the gloom of day, Aragorn felt a bit better. He was still feeling sick and cold, but the feeling that he had to throw up with every step he took, was gone. And there was another thing that lifted his heart. He was just climbing from his blankets, when Silien sidled up to him.

"He woke."

"What?" Aragorn blinked at the elf in confusion, still half asleep and not sure what the warrior was talking about. Silien merely lifted an eyebrow and glanced at him, and Aragorn's eyes snapped up as realization hit him.

"Legolas woke? When? How is he? Is he still awake?" Aragorn quickly turned to glance past Silien to where Legolas was lying. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest, and he felt his hands get sweaty. But, when his eyes fell on Legolas, he saw that his friend was lying motionless, clearly not awake.

"Yes he woke up, it was late last night, he seems to be fine and no, he is not awake right now." Silien said, counting his answers off at his fingers. "But it is a good sign. I'm sure Legolas will wake up again sometime during the day, and then you can talk to him." Silien slapped Aragorn on the shoulder, before he turned and made his way over to Merenor, who sat beside the Captain, talking softly to him.

A huge mountain seemed to have been lifted from Aragorn's shoulders, and he could not help the stupid grin that broke out on his face. Legolas had woken up. He was fine. Suddenly, the long march back to the Palace did not seem all that long anymore.

It was already after midday when Legolas woke for the second time. He was groggy and extremely tired, but when he saw Aragorn, his eyes lit up, and a small smile played around his lips. Unable to keep his eyes open for long, Legolas fell asleep soon after waking, but even this short time of awareness was enough for Aragorn to feel all bouncy and energetic. Legolas had recognized him, had even smiled at him! His friend and lover would be fine, Aragorn now knew, and that was all that mattered.

Three long and very cold days later, the group of warriors reached the Palace of Mirkwood. Seeing the stretcher and the sleeping Prince, the guards ushered them into the caves, shouting for the healers. Both Legolas and Aragorn were brought to the healing ward, where they were placed in the care of the Master healer. Shortly after their arrival, King Thranduil stormed into the healing rooms, demanding to see his son. And when Aragorn fell asleep that night, he felt happier than he had since the day he had lain with Legolas in the outpost. For, Legolas had not only woken shortly after arriving in the Palace, but asked for him, too. They had shared some words and even more secretive smiles, and when Aragorn had been asked by the healers to leave, Legolas had quickly squeezed his hand. All was well again.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Outside of the Palace, Lithdal watched as the huge stone doors shut with an echoing bang behind the group of warriors. Cursing under his breath, Lithdal crept away into the shadows. He knew he had missed his chance of freeing Estel from Legolas, and he was not happy about it. But it had truly been impossible to sneak past the guards when the group had made camp during their journey. There had always been a pair of sharp eyes, so as if they had suspected that someone had been out there.

Lithdal hissed under his breath and balled his hands into fists. Maybe he had missed this chance, but there would be more. And if no new opportunity presented itself soon, then he would take matters into his own hands. There were secret ways he knew of, ways that led straight into the Palace. And those secret ways, Lithdal knew, were as good as unprotected. A slow, wicked smile crossed his lips as thoughts of Estel danced across his mind. Soon, the young man was his, and his alone, while that Princeling would vanish forever.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

In the Palace, the healers examined Legolas and Aragorn thoroughly, probing and squeezing, testing and analyzing. They cleaned and bandaged the wound on Legolas's back, stitching it close. Aragorn's cut was cleaned and bandaged as well, but it was rather shallow and not serious. If he kept the wound dry, it would heal in but a few days. Legolas's wound was more serious, but with his elven healing properties, the healers were sure that it would heal quickly, too.

After the healers declared that neither Legolas nor Aragorn would suffer any lasting damage from their encounter with the spider venom, both were ordered to stay abed for a few days to rest and recuperate. Legolas slept a lot, feeling tired and exhausted. Aragorn soon found that the sickness vanished whenever he lay down, and so he spent the first few days flat on his back, staring listlessly at the ceiling. Sometimes, Merenor or Silien would keep him company, but the only person Aragorn could think about was Legolas. They did not share the same room, for Legolas was staying in the room reserved for the royals, while Aragorn stayed in a common healing room. After a few days, Aragorn felt well enough to leave the healing wing. Legolas, on the other hand, felt well too, but was forced to stay in the healing wing by the healers for a few more days.

While Legolas was forced by the healers and his father to rest and recuperate, Estel visited him every day, only leaving his side at meal times. With all the healers, apprentices and friends that came and went, the two could barely exchange a private word. They shared quick kisses and loving looks when they were alone, but the fear of being discovered always hung above them like a dark cloud. When Legolas was finally released, they immediately retreated into Legolas's room, yearning to spend some time alone.

Reclining on the couch that stood in front of the hearth, Legolas sighed contentedly. He leaned his head back and enjoyed the stillness of the moment. He could hear the crackle of the fire before him, and the soft clinking of glasses as Aragorn poured them a drink. The young man's soft footsteps reached the couch, and then Legolas felt the man sink down beside him.

"Here, for you." Aragorn offered him the glass, and Legolas smelled the strong liquor. It was not wine Aragorn had poured, but something with more strength. Just what he needed. Legolas opened his eyes and smiled at his friend. "Hanon le, Estel."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the drink and the warm fire. Sighing contentedly, Aragorn rested his head on Legolas's shoulder. Looking down at his young lover, Legolas smiled. While he had lain in the healing wing, Silien had told him about what had happened to Aragorn, and what the young man had done to save him. Legolas felt incredibly grateful and proud of Aragorn, and he knew that without the help of the man, he would not have survived the fight.

Reaching out, Legolas let the dark locks flow through his fingers, before he placed a kiss on Aragorn's head. They had talked about the fight and the journey back many times, and Legolas was glad there were no words left that needed to be said right now. All he wanted to do was enjoy the peace and quiet with his friend. Giving Aragorn another kiss, Legolas let his hand travel further downward, caressing the man's back.

Aragorn sighed blissfully, leaning closer. "I missed this." He said softly, pecking Legolas on the neck. "I missed you." He looked up into Legolas's blue eyes, saying more with his eyes than he ever could with words. Their gazes held for a long moment, and then Legolas cupped Aragorn's face with his hands. "I missed you too, Estel." He kissed the man, full of passion and love, and the one kiss turned into another. Soon, Legolas gently pressed Aragorn down on the couch and rolled atop him. Aragorn automatically spread his legs to accommodate his lover, his right leg dangling down, touching the ground.

Hands explored, lips brushed skin and warm tongues teased gently at earlobes and tender skin. Soon, their tunics and shirts lay in a heap on the ground, and they felt their pounding arousals tighten their breeches. Legolas kissed his way down all the way from Aragorn's ear to the waistband of his breeches, leaving a trail of heated skin behind. Skilled fingers tugged at the breeches, causing Aragorn to moan in pleasure of what was to come. He tilted his head back, exposing his vulnerable neck.

His hands found their way into Legolas's blond strands, not to guide but to steady himself when the elf plunged his tongue into his belly button, before he stroked him through the fabric of his leggings. Legolas's breath wafted in warm puffs over his skin, making it tingle. In that moment, Aragorn wanted nothing more than to feel Legolas, to be united with him. And from the eager movements of Legolas's hands, he knew that his lover wanted the same. But when Legolas opened the knots at his breeches and began to pull down the fabric, Aragorn stiffened.

Feeling his lover stiffen under him, Legolas looked up and their eyes met. "Should we not move to the bed?" Aragorn asked, his voice ruff and deep. He had never made love to Legolas outside of the bed while they had been in reach of one, and Aragorn felt a strange sensation inside his stomach at the thought of Legolas loving him on the couch. To his surprise, Legolas only grinned at him, before he resumed his work of removing his breeches. Aragorn obediently lifted his hips, and the fabric soon found its way onto the floor. Legolas's leggings followed soon after.

They made love on the couch, their naked bodies bathed in the orange glow of the fire. Just like it had happened in the outpost, they found that their climax was stronger, more powerful and much more enjoyable for both than it had ever been before. They both wondered at that, but did not question their bliss.

To be continued.


	7. Something wicked

**A/N: Cliffy warning!**

Chapter 7: Something wicked...

The next few days passed slowly, with Legolas and Aragorn recuperating and resting. But that did not mean that they took their days slowly. Every morning Legolas knocked on Aragorn's door and walk with him to the dining room, where they shared breakfast. Lunchtimes found them sitting at the same table, talking quietly, while they had taken to have their dinner in the royal family dining room, either alone or with the King.

Aragorn particularly enjoyed the time he spend with Legolas, away from prying eyes and politely nodding servants. Legolas showed him places of the Palace he had not seen before, told him numerous stories of his childhood and youth, made him laugh with jokes and taught him about the history of the former Greenwood the Great. By the end of the week, Aragorn felt more at home in the Palace than he had before the journey to the outpost. And that was not just because the tale of his rescuing the Crown Prince had spread like wildfire in the corridors and halls of the underground Palace.

Wherever they went and whatever they did, Legolas seemed to have planned a little "extra" for them. One time it was a quick kiss in a dark corridor, the other time a gentle squeeze in the library, and once even a full five minutes of kissing, touching and probing behind a storage rag in a small stockroom. At first surprised and highly embarrassed by Legolas's actions, Aragorn soon learned to appreciate his lover's resourcefulness and loving attention. They explored the Palace in a whole new way, making memories in many hallways, corners and rooms. And to Aragorn's surprise, the danger of being caught, of being seen or heard, aroused him more than he had ever dreamed possible. And the knowledge that he would have to walk back to his or Legolas's room, that they would probably have to wait "hours" before they could be intimate, nearly killed him. And when they finally sank down on the bed, breathing heavily and sweaty, he saw the same wonder, excitement and satisfaction reflected in Legolas's eyes. It was a dream come true.

One of those wonderful nights, when they lay spend on the rug before the hearth, Aragorn lifted himself onto his elbow and slowly traced a finger down Legolas's shoulder to his back. Gently, he circled the still healing spider bite wound, a frown appearing on his face. Legolas watched him from his position on the floor, waiting for him to speak.

"It has not healed yet, Legolas. Whereas you can barely see my wound." Aragorn said confused, his eyes full of worry.

Taking Aragorn's probing fingers into his hand and placing a kiss on them, Legolas gave him a small smile, "It has to do with the poison. The spider venom blocks my healing properties and causes the wound to heal slower. But sooner or later not even a scar will be left."

Aragorn gave the wound another long look, then concentrated on Legolas's face. "Are you certain about that? It looks painful."

"Yes, I am." Legolas brushed his lips against Aragorn's. "It does not hurt, trust me. And, could I do this if my back would trouble me?" Legolas wrapped his arms around the young man, rolled atop him, and bestowed dozens of butterfly kisses to his neck and face.

"I think not." Aragorn finally breathed, his head all fuzzy and his lower regions hot with desire. Moaning blissfully, he placed his hands on Legolas's hips, very aware of the fact that they were both still naked. Tracing his thumbs in slow circles on the tender skin, Aragorn looked up into Legolas's bright blue eyes.

"I love you, Legolas."

A huge smile broke out on the elf's face, and he leaned down so that his blond hair framed Aragorn's face. Legolas brought his lips close to Aragorn's, almost touching him. "I love you too, Estel." He whispered, then closed the distance and kissed him slowly. It was a kiss full of love and trust, a kiss that promised more than just the physical bonding that they had shared so often. With this kiss, Legolas showed Aragorn that he truly loved him back, without hesitation, and that his heart loved all of the man, body and soul.

And that night, when Aragorn made his way slowly back to his room, his head full of happy memories, he could not help but chuckle at Legolas's parting words. '_Tomorrow I shall show you the true meaning of the word 'flexible'_'.

And that, he did. With every day that passed, Legolas became more and more adventuresome and creative in their love making. They did some things that Aragorn had, until now, believed to be physically impossible, and he had enjoyed every second of it. When they were not trying to keep quiet while in either his or Legolas's room, they were walking the corridors of the Palace, or venturing outside into the protected areas. They often practiced their archery or sword fighting techniques, and were joined by Silien and Merenor when those two were not on duty.

Since the journey back to the Palace from their trip to the outpost, Aragorn saw in Silien a really good friend. The elf had stayed by his side when he had been sick and cold, feeling absolutely miserable, and Aragorn had thanked him quietly for his support the day he had been released from the healing ward. His feelings for Merenor, on the other hand, were a bit more difficult to describe. While he was grateful for what the elf had done to make sure that Legolas survived the attack from the spider poison, Aragorn could not help but feel a bit threatened by the elf. Jealous, even.

He was certain that Legolas and Merenor had been a couple in the past, and he knew that at least Merenor still harbored some feelings for Legolas. The elf would seek Legolas's touch, generally stay close to him, or study him whenever he thought no one was watching him. Aragorn could not help but wonder who had broken off their relationship. Legolas seemed to enjoy Merenor's company, but from what Aragorn could read from his lover's body language, he was no longer attracted to Merenor. But, that did not mean that he would leave Legolas alone with Merenor. When no one was watching. Or listening in on them. The heart is sometimes so much stronger than common sense…

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Two weeks had passed since Lithdal had watched the tall figure of Aragorn vanishing behind the carved stone doors of the Palace. Two weeks since Lithdal had had any contact with life inside the cave system. But during all that time, not one day had gone by without Lithdal thinking of Aragorn, dreaming of the time when they would finally be together. With each day that went by, Lithdal felt that his chance of ever seeing Aragorn again got smaller. The young man was caught behind the stone doors, was a captive of the darkness that reigned in the corridors of the Palace, was a slave to the will of the Prince.

Whenever Lithdal thought of Legolas and what the Prince was doing to "his" Aragorn, Lithdal's blood boiled. Aragorn belonged to him and him alone. The only thing that prevented the young man from returning to him was the possessive hold that Legolas had on him. Once this connection was broken, Aragorn would willingly come to him. And then, Lithdal would take what was his, should have been his all along.

The wish to see Aragorn again, to hold him, kiss him, love him, grew into a desire within Lithdal, slowly turning into pure need and lust. He simply "needed" Aragorn to survive, to go on in this world. He was convinced that he could not live without the young human by his side. Once these feelings had taken a hold of him, Lithdal could not help but think of the things he would do with Aragorn, and his body reacted to these thoughts almost immediately. More than once, Lithdal had to quickly climb a tree, so as not to be caught by wild animals or orcs while he was in no fit state to fight.

With the desire and lust to finally have Aragorn for himself, his hate for Legolas grew. Lithdal knew that Legolas did not really love Aragorn, never had. He was using the young man for his own needs, nothing more. And once the Prince was out of the way, the way was free for Lithdal to take up his place and take what was his.

So, when two weeks had passed since he had last seen Aragorn, Lithdal decided that he could wait no longer. He wanted Aragorn, he needed him, he would not live any longer without him. Ah, but Lithdal was no fool. He had lived in the Palace for most of his life, and he knew that the Prince was well loved and protected. Guards stood at every door and patrolled even the most remote corridor. All entries and exits to the cave system were covered by ever watchful eyes. Well, Lithdal thought, all entries but one. As a messenger to the King, he had often been forced to seek His Majesty out, going hither and yonder in his search. And during one of those searches, Lithdal had found a way in and out of the Palace that no one knew. Maybe a few of the oldest guards knew of the secret tunnel system that Lithdal had found, and maybe even the King and Legolas, but Lithdal doubted that any guards were patrolling it. The tunnel system that ran under the Palace was huge, stretching miles to the south, north, west and east. Lithdal had never seen guards enter the tunnel system, and if he came along one, he would simply deal with him. One way or the other.

So, entering the Palace would not be a problem. But, coming close to Aragorn without being detected, that would be a problem. Lithdal was no fool. He had noticed that there were more guards around than usual, and he mused that Legolas had warned them of him. If the guards saw him, they would sound the alarm. That must not happen. Not when he was so close to the young man. No, Lithdal thought. He would enter the Palace and spy on the habits and movements of Aragorn and that Princeling. And then he would take his chance when it presented itself to him. He had waited for so many months; he could wait a day or two longer.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Like so many days before, Legolas picked Aragorn up for breakfast, and they headed down to the dining rooms. They enjoyed their simple meal, when Silien sat down at the table, a frustrated look on his face. Letting his plate clatter on the table, he gulped down half of his tea, before he sighed heavily. Aragorn and Legolas exchanged a look. Normally, Silien was never frustrated or agitated. The elf had a very balanced personality. So, Legolas cleared this throat softly, "Good morning, Silien. Care to tell what has you so rattled this early in the day?"

Silien gave Legolas a mock glare and finished his slice of bread before he answered, "It is the cook." He wiped his hands on a napkin, then continued, "Every morning he calls me and claims that food has been stolen from the kitchens. Bread, cheese, wine. Even dried meat and vegetables. Wants me, being responsible for this part of the Palace, to start a full investigation." Silien shook his head, "Nonsense, if you ask me." Still looking very frustrated, Silien bit into another slice of bread with vigor.

"Why do you think that the cook is telling nonsense?" Aragorn asked, a little confused. Surely the cook would never lie about such things. And why should he?

"Because everyone can take food from the kitchen if they want to. The food in the Palace is for everyone. If you are hungry, go to the kitchen and take what you want." Silien said, shrugging. "There is no need to steal food which you can take as you please."

Aragorn was even more confused now, and he said so, "I don't understand. If the food is for everyone to take, how can the cook then be certain that something has been stolen?"

Swallowing, Silien began to explain, "Because everyone who takes food from the kitchen or the storage rooms has to sign into a list. You have to mark what you have taken and sign your name behind the items. So, the cooks know how much there remains in the storage rooms, and when the provisions have dwindled to a certain degree, that they need to send out the hunters. But now the cook claims that food has been taken without writing it down on the list. The cook says that this has never happened before."

Not knowing what to say to this, Aragorn glanced at Legolas. Too his surprise, Legolas seemed to take this matter seriously. His eyes were narrowed and there was a frown on his forehead. "Silien," he said, "What are you planning to do in this matter?"

"Do?" Silien nearly choked on his cheese. "What am I supposed to do? Apart from the fact that I think the cook has sniffed one times too many on his cooking liquor, there is really nothing I can do." Silien counted his arguments off on the fingers on his hand.

"First, there are too many kitchens and storage rooms in the Palace to guard them all. Second, I have too little men to do so. Third, taking food and not signing in is not a crime. Maybe the person or persons responsible just forgot it. And last but not least, I think it is an utter waste of time."

Legolas was spared an answer, for in that moment Merenor stopped by their table, and a few moments later they left the dining hall to join a group of warriors on their way to the underground training caves. A man-to-man training session had been scheduled for the morning, and both Aragorn and Legolas had agreed to take part. But while Aragorn thoroughly enjoyed the training, learning the moves he was shown and peppering the senior warriors who trained them with questions, Legolas's mind was elsewhere.

Food had been stolen from the kitchens and storage rooms. That was indeed very strange. For as long as Legolas could remember, he had never heard that food had been stolen. Certainly, sometimes people forgot to sign the lists, but that were mere incidents. Never before had the cook worried so much that he asked the guards to do anything about it. Legolas's mind whirled. Who would need to steal food? Well, someone who could not sign his name on the list. Someone who wanted to stay undetected. Someone on the run.

A feeling of unease crawled down Legolas's spine. '_Lithdal_'. But no, that was ridiculous. The elf could not be in the Palace! How should he have entered? The guards would have arrested him the moment he had set one toe above the Palace threshold. It was simply impossible that Lithdal was in the Palace. Legolas repeated that phrase over and over in his head, and when the training session ended and a happy and smiling Aragorn made his way over to him, he had managed to convince himself that Lithdal was not in the Palace. Legolas was simply overly paranoid. That was all.

The next day, a young warrior reported one of his uniforms missing. The elf in attendance noted it down on a sheet of parchment, handed the young warrior a new set of uniforms, and forgot the incident the moment the young warriors left his room. Slowly, disaster wriggled its way into the Palace of Mirkwood.

The next morning, Legolas loudly banged on Aragorn's door, then stormed inside. It was early, and Aragorn was still lying in bed, the covers drawn up to his chin. When he saw Legolas's broadly smiling face, he drew the blanket above his head, moaning, "That cannot mean anything good."

"Oh, but it does!" Legolas laughed, then added a log to the smoldering ashes in the hearth and poked the wood until orange flames sprang forth. He quickly made his way into the bathing chamber, filled a basin with water, then brought it over to the hearth and sat in down near the flames to warm it. "I have big plans for today, Estel. So get up sleepy-head."

"Don't want to." Aragorn grumbled, tightening his hold on the blankets and furs. "I'm tired."

Legolas huffed and soundlessly made his way over to the bed. He reached out and tickled Aragorn's bare feet. With a shriek, the young man drew his knees up, poked his head form under the covers and gave Legolas a dark look, "That was mean."

"I know." Legolas quipped happily, then climbed onto the bed. He crawled on hands and knees over to Aragorn, until he was situated over the young man. Leaning down, he kissed him good morning. Unwilling to forgive his friend and lover for waking him so rudely, Aragorn enjoyed the kiss, but then shoved Legolas away.

Laughing, Legolas tackled Aragorn, but he pushed himself off the bed with too much force, and a moment later man and elf landed unceremoniously on the ground. Rubbing his aching head, Aragorn looked up into the eyes of his lover, "So, big plans, huh?"

"Yes." Legolas simply replied, a bit ashamed that he had caused them both to tumble to the hard ground. He quickly kissed Aragorn again, before he climbed to his feet and extended a hand to help the young man up as well. Legolas had to grin at what he saw. In his sleeping clothing, with sleep tousled hair and slight stubble on his chin, Aragorn just looked gorgeous. Biting his lower lip, Legolas shook his head in profound regret.

"Ah, if we only had time now." He lamented, looking Aragorn up and down. But before Aragorn's half asleep mind could comprehend what Legolas was meaning, the elf had grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him towards the bathing chamber. A moment later, Legolas retrieved the basin of lukewarm water and placed in front of Aragorn. "Here, wash up and dress. We are already late."

"Why are we late, Legolas?" Aragorn mumbled, but obediently plunged his hands into the water and began to wash. While Aragorn washed the sleep from his eyes, Legolas retreated into the main room and began to rummage through the wardrobe for some clothes. His voice came to Aragorn slightly muffled.

"Because we have an appointment with Inglor."

Wiping his wet hands on a towel, Aragorn frowned and called over his shoulder, "Who is Inglor?"

"Inglor is the royal tailor." Legolas called, dumping trousers, shirt, tunic and socks onto the bed.

"The royal tailor?" Aragorn emerged from the bathing chamber, clean but still unshaven. "Why would we have an appointment with the royal tailor?"

"Because," Legolas said and pointed for Aragorn to go back into the bathing chamber and shave, "Winter Solstice is only a week away, and you need new clothes for the occasion."

"I brought formal clothing with me." Aragorn said, pointing to his wardrobe. "It is all there." Legolas merely shook his head and handed Aragorn his shaving knife and soap.

"I told you that the Winter Solstice feast in Mirkwood is celebrated differently than in Rivendell. Here, it is quite a formal affair. My father will preside the formal part of the celebrations at the head table, with me and his advisors at his side. There will be many speeches and lays be sung. At midnight, my father will declare the new year has begun and then the informal part of the celebrations begin. We will dance and sing and drink and have a lot of fun."

Having shaven the right side of his face and turning to the left, Aragorn shrugged his shoulders, "I still don't see why I would need new clothing."

A sigh came from the main room, "As a guest of me and my father the King, being Lord Elrond's foster son, you will be treated as a guest of honor at the celebrations, Estel. You will sit to my father's left during the evening."

In a matter of seconds, Aragorn's face paled, "At the royal table? Beside your father? All evening?"

"Aye."

Aragorn slowly cleaned his shaving knife and his voice was slightly higher when he finally asked, "Will I have to give a speech?"

Legolas's slender arm wrapped around his waist and the elf's chin came to rest on his shoulder. "Would you like that?" Legolas gently pressed his lips on Aragorn's neck.

"Well, I have been trained for occasions like these." Aragorn said evasively and tilted his head to the side to give Legolas's skilled lips more access to his neck.

"But would you like to do it?"

"No."

Legolas smiled and kissed the young man on the cheek, "I thought so. I have talked to my father and he agreed that you will only have to say a few words. Like '_I thank the King for his hospitality and wish us all an enjoyable evening._' Something like that."

Aragorn grimaced, but knew that it would be inevitable. After all, the same had been asked of Legolas every time he had stayed in Imladris over the winter. Still, he had brought his formal clothing with him and did not see the need to buy new robes and he said so.

Smiling gently, Legolas tightened his hold on Aragorn. "I want your robes to match with mine, Estel. I want you to look your best."

"Hm, why did you not say so immediately?" Aragorn turned his head so that he could kiss Legolas on his lips. The kiss became deeper and Aragorn turned in the elf's embrace. His hands slowly wandered down to rest on his lover's hips, and Legolas leaned forward, intensifying his kisses. But too soon Legolas stepped back, moaning in disappointment.

"Alas, we have no time for this." He quickly made his way into the main room and over to the bed. Taking up the shirt and tunic he had chosen, he flung them in Aragorn's direction. "Get dressed, Estel. If we come too late, Inglor will be furious."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

They '_did_' come too late to the appointment with Inglor, and the royal tailor nearly sputtered with shock the moment he laid eyes on Aragorn. With a 'You didn't tell me I'd have to dress _him_, my Prince. That will take so much more time!' he whisked Aragorn away into his rooms to take his measurements. But what had started as a rather awkward meeting, turned out to be a lot of fun. Once Inglor had gotten over his anger, he found the task of making formal robes for a 'human' very interesting. They tried various colors and materials, and Aragorn dressed so often that morning that he became dizzy. In the end, they decided on a dark grey tunic with a slightly lighter shirt, combined with black breeches and a robe the color of the stormy sea. While Inglor complained that the coloring would rather suit a burial than a Winter Solstice celebration, Legolas thought the coloring would match perfectly with Aragorn's eyes and dark hair, and furthermore stress his Noldorin ancestry.

They spent the afternoon in the library and the family sitting room, talking about the upcoming celebrations. During the conversation, Aragorn started to feel slightly homesick again, and he could not help but wonder what his brothers and father were doing right now. Surely the twins had gone hunting in the woods surrounding the valley, while his father had written his speech. Glorfindel and Erestor would have supervised the preparations, each of them meticulous to the point of being annoying. Aragorn really missed his family, and he wished he could at least write to them. But the snowstorms and cold weather made it almost impossible for the carrier pigeons to travel across the Misty Mountains, and letters were only send in a case of emergency.

The days passed quickly, and both Legolas and Aragorn were swept away by the happy atmosphere that wafted through the corridors and halls of the Palace like early morning mist. Everybody was looking forward to the celebrations, helping to clean and decorate the place. While Legolas was called to and fro to make decisions over food, music and seating arrangements, Aragorn helped the servants and warriors to carry tables and stools, carpets, dishware and huge candelabras.

When the day of the celebrations arrived, the great hall of the King looked enchanted. The stone floor had been carpeted, framed pictures and tapestries covered the walls, silver candelabras stood all around the room, winter flowers hung from the ceiling, and long wooden tables stood in the middle of the room, with benches that could house two hundred people. At the head of the room, right before the aisle that held the throne, stood the royal table. The chair of the King had been situated in the middle, with numerous chairs to each side. Gobles and golden plates already decorated the table, together with white napkins and diamond covered decanters.

The celebration itself was like nothing that Aragorn had ever experienced before. True to Legolas's word, Aragorn was seated next to the King as a guest of honor, and he '_did_' have to say a few quick words. But it was not as bad as he had feared, and when the King gave him a small smile and raised his goblet in a salute, Aragorn felt the nervousness that had plagued him all day vanish out of his body. Up until midnight, the room was rather quiet. The food was excellent, as was the wine, but the formal speeches and soft music bathed the hall into a somber mood.

And then, when midnight came, the King stood to his feet, raised his goblet high above his head and greeted the new year. Legolas was the first to climb to his feet as well, his goblet raised, and then the whole room followed as one big individual. And as if that had been the official end of the somber mood, the whole room began to chat away happily. There was loud laughter and song, the musicians played a lovely melody, and more wine was brought. Minutes later, the long tables were shoved to the walls, and the merry making began.

"Come, Estel!" Legolas called and grabbed him by the hand. "Let's go dancing."

They danced a lot that night, as did all the elves present. Too Aragorn's surprise (and relief) it seemed to be absolutely normal that males danced with males, unlike in Imladris, where male bondings were accepted, but took place more in secret. He even spotted Silien dancing with Merenor. Nevertheless, he and Legolas did not dance many dances together, and changed their dancing partners throughout the night. Aragorn danced with so many people, both elleth and ellyn that he stopped counting them. He had a lot of fun, as had Legolas.

In the early hours of morning, when dancing became too arduous a task and the limbs became heavy from wine, most of the dancers left the hall to celebrate elsewhere. When the music finally stopped, Legolas came over to Aragorn, a huge smile on his face. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his hair had come loose from his braids. Clapping Aragorn on the shoulder, he appraised his friend from head to foot, "I take it you had fun tonight?"

"Aye, I had." Aragorn said, still slightly out of breath from all the dancing he had done. "Legolas, this evening was fabulous. I think I have never before danced that much in my whole life."

"I hoped that you would enjoy it." Legolas wrapped his arm around Aragorn's shoulders and lead him to the door. The room was almost empty now, with but a few elves still dancing or talking merrily over a glass of wine.

While they made their way to the royal wing, they could hear laughter and song float through the corridors, but they saw few elves. When they had passed the guards at the bottom of the stairs that led to the royal wing, Legolas leaned in and whispered in Aragorn's ear, "I wish I could stay with you tonight, Estel." His breath was hot on Aragorn's skin, and a warm shower coursed through his body at those words.

"Then stay with me." He said, without thinking.

There was a pause, but then Legolas sighed, "I cannot, you know that. But oh, how I wish I could." He looked around the empty corridor to make sure that they were unobserved, then quickly brushed his lips against Aragorn's neck. Aragorn turned and tiled his head to the side, wanting to feel Legolas's lips on his skin. Hands stroked, fingers probed and their breath mingled. Soon, Aragorn found himself pressed flat against the wall, with Legolas's body flush against his own.

"Oh, Legolas…" Aragorn sighed, feeling the heat of Legolas's body through his tunic. He wanted to feel Legolas, to hear him whisper his name, hold him close and love him. But as if his exclamation had broken the spell, Legolas stiffened and broke the contact as if Aragorn was too hot to touch. Like a rabbit trapped in a cage he looked left and right, and only relaxed when he saw that the corridor was still empty.

"Estel, we cannot…." When Legolas saw the disappointment in Aragorn's eyes, he quickly took his hand. "Estel, you know I love you."

Aragorn nodded, but could not help feel sad for himself. All his former happiness and festive feeling evaporated. "You still haven't told your father about us, Legolas. You said you would tell him at Winter Solstice."

"I know." Legolas said and sighed, "I know. And I promise you, I will tell him."

"When?"

Legolas paused for a moment, as if he was undecided, but then he took a deep breath and looked Aragorn in the eye, "First thing tomorrow morning. I promise."

"Really?" Aragorn asked doubtfully, but Legolas nodded.

"Aye, really. I will tell him over breakfast. No, WE will tell him over breakfast." Legolas smiled at Aragorn's surprised look. "I want you to be by my side when I tell him, Estel. Just like I was at your side when you told your family." There was so much love in Legolas's eyes that Aragorn just had to smile.

"Alright. Tomorrow morning it is." And before Legolas could protest, he leaned forwards and pressed their lips together in one long, passionate kiss that sealed Legolas's promise. And when they parted company that night in front of Aragorn's door, it was with the happy feeling that after tomorrow, they would no longer be forced to live a secret life. Well, at least not while they were in the family quarters.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Silent as a wrath and as dangerous, Lithdal crept along the dark corridors of the Palace. Now, with the celebrations over and most of the feasting elves fast asleep in their own quarters, with the guards too tired to care and the servants so exhausted from the day's work to wake up before hours after dawn, Lithdal deemed his time had come to take what was his. He had housed in the underground secret hallways for days now, had stolen food and drink from the kitchens and even managed to snatch away a soldier's uniform. Even if someone now glanced his way, he would not immediately be recognized.

A wicked smile formed on his face as his steps brought him closer and closer to the royal wing. It had been too easy to enter the Palace. All he had to do was remove an old metal gate that had been too rusty to last long, and then find his way through the underground tunnel system that had been built for cases of emergency. There had been no guard at the other end, and Lithdal had sneaked inside the Palace like poison through a body. Undetected, but lethal.

Oh, Lithdal had dreamed about this day, had waited for it to finally arrive. And he had so many plans on what he would do tonight. So many delicious dreams…Once this night was over, the young man would be his, and his alone. Lithdal's body tightened and a searing heat filled his stomach at the thought of what he would do with the human. But he shook his head and balled his fists. There was one other thing he had to do first, before he could join the beautiful youth.

Like a shadow Lithdal neared the stairs that led up to the royal wing. He gave his appearance one last look, the stolen uniform fit him perfectly. He barely glanced at the guards at the bottom of the stairs, striding past them as if he did this every day. Tired and bored, the guards let him pass without so much as a second glance. Many warriors came and went here every day, and there really was no reason for them to worry. Once past the guards, Lithdal felt his heart pump against his chest. Only a few more steps…

He stopped in front of the door to the royal guest room. His hands were sweaty and his blood rushed in his ears. Slowly, as if in a trance, he pressed his palm against the wood and closed his eyes. He was so close now, so close to the young man he wanted more than anything else in the world. The young man who loved him, deep down, and just needed to be freed from the captive hold of that Princeling to be all his. At the thought of Legolas, Lithdal's dreamy face turned into an insane grimace. Ah yes, the one thing he had to take care of before he could finally join Estel in his room.

Keeping to the shadows of the corridor, Lithdal made his way towards Legolas's room. The door was not locked, and he entered the dark room. Silently, his feet making no sound on the floor, he made his way over to the bed. For a moment he stared down at the sleeping Prince, blond hair ruffled and face relaxed, eyes opened in elvish sleep. Hate bubbled up inside of him, hot and all consuming. Before he could change his mind, Lithdal grabbed the heavy water jug from the nightstand, raised his arm and let the jug crash down on Legolas's head.

Shards of pottery hit the floor with a splintering sound, but after that, there was only silence. Lithdal looked down as bright red blood soaked into the pillow, before it dripped onto the matters. Legolas did not move, his eyes were closed.

With a satisfied snort, Lithdal turned and left the room as quietly as he had entered it. A smile played around his lips as he reached the door to Aragorn's room.

To be continued.


	8. Nightmare

**°robot enters the scene, yellow light flashing,**** shouting "Warning! Warning!°: Adult scenes and themes. Very graphic details. Non-con!! Don't like it, don't read it.**

Chapter 8: Nightmare 

Lithdal slowly closed the door behind him and bolted it. For a moment or two he considered moving the heavy chest of drawers that stood on the wall next to the door to bar it, but then decided against it. Moving the chest of drawers would make more noise than he wished for right now. With the room pitched in almost absolute darkness, and the only light coming from the smoldering embers of the fire, Lithdal made his way over to the bed. Even from the distance he could see the tall form of the young man lying under the covers, obviously asleep. His heart began to dance in his chest. He was so close now, so close to the only person he really loved.

One step, two, three…Lithdal took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He flexed his fingers, straightened his shoulders, lifted his chin and never gazed away from the sleeping human. His blood rushed in his ears like the sea crashing onto the shore, and an army of squirming insects settled in his stomach. Only a few more steps…His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could make out Aragorn's dark hair, sleep tousled and unruly. There was an arm draped over the pillow, a foot sticking out from the blanket, a knee peeking out from under the covers. Lithdal felt his breath shudder in his chest…only one more step…

And then, Lithdal stood at the edge of the bed, his icy blue eyes sparkling in the light of the dying fire. For a long moment Lithdal merely stood there, a captivated smile on his face. His gaze travelled from Aragorn's feet up to his head, noticing the curves and bulges in the furs and blankets and imagining the human body beneath. When his gaze came to rest on Aragorn's sleep relaxed face, Lithdal's heart soared. Dark eyelashes contrasted against pale skin, high cheekbones gave way to cheeks showing light stubble and then a strong chin. Succulent lips were parted in sleep, and Lithdal longed to trace his finger over the young man's lower lip and then down his neck, all the way down until his fingers would vanish under the blanket and the waistband of the breeches the man was wearing in bed.

"Oh, Estel…" Lithdal breathed, too soft for Aragorn to hear. Oh, Lithdal had planned this day, had dreamed about it so many times. And now that it had come, he had to forcefully repress the urge to simply climb into the bed and take what he thought was his. Lithdal felt his desire rise within with every rise and fall of Aragorn's chest. It was like a sun that was born inside his body, spreading its hot rays to his fingertips, toes and ears and straight down to his groin. Lithdal moaned softly and had to close his eyes for a moment to gather himself. '_Not yet_' he thought, '_Just a moment longer._'

As silently as he could, Lithdal removed a long piece of cloth from the inner pocket of his tunic. When he had debated on how to best take what was his, on how to convince Aragorn that the only elf he loved was Lithdal and no one else, Lithdal had decided that Aragorn would not listen to reason. In Lithdal's crazy mind, Aragorn had been put under some kind of spell by Legolas, something that clouded the man's judgment. Surely Aragorn would not believe Lithdal if he told him that Legolas was just playing with him, using him to satisfy his own needs. No, Aragorn would call him a liar, a traitor, maybe even a murderer. He would call for the guards before Lithdal had any chance to make him see reason. And Lithdal was certain, now more than ever, that Aragorn had feelings for him, loved him, and wanted to be with him.

So, Lithdal had decided to deceit the young human. And when Aragorn found out the truth, then it would be too late already, for then he would have fallen in love with Lithdal. All Aragorn needed was for someone to open his eyes and mind to the game Legolas was playing with him. Not that it mattered anymore, now that that Princeling was dead.

A feral gleam entered Lithdal's eyes and his breath quickened in his throat. Slowly, he folded the strip of cloth and then smoothed it with his fingers. He wanted this to be perfect, just as he had dreamed it would be. Leaning over Aragorn, he looked down on the sleeping man. With gentle care, so as not to wake Aragorn, Lithdal placed the folded cloth over the sleeping man's eyes and tied the end at the back of Aragorn's head, effectively blindfolding the young human.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Slowly, rather sluggishly, Aragorn's mind drifted from sleep to wakefulness. He had drunken more of the sweet wine the King of Mirkwood cherished so much than was good for him, and he could feel the tiredness in his very bones. But something tugged at his consciousness, crawling like spider legs down his back. His heart beat faster as his mind slowly woke up. Still half asleep, Aragorn opened his eyes to slits. The room around him was dark, the edges of his bed a little frayed. But while his eyes were nearly useless, his senses told him unerringly that he was not alone. He pried his eyes open another tiny bit, and made out a person looming above him. He caught a glimpse of light hair and slender fingers, before something soft slid over his eyes and his world turned dark.

Suddenly, fear knotted his stomach, and Aragorn was wide awake in a heartbeat. He reached up to touch the blindfold that covered his eyes, but his hand was caught in gentle fingers. A soft '_shh_' reached his ears, warm and light, and Aragorn felt his fear retreat. The fingers holding his own let go of his hand, only to caress his cheek. Another whispered '_shh_' floated to him, and Aragorn relaxed back into the mattress. He took a deep breath and smiled in the darkness. "Legolas….what is this? A new game of yours?"

The only answer he got were long fingers brushing his cheek, travelling down the side of his face to the neck and then over his collar bone. A scent he had never smelled before reached his nose. It seemed familiar, but he could not place it. A shiver coursed through Aragorn's body. Since the day he and Legolas had returned from the outpost, they had found joy in little games abed, and always it had been Legolas who came up with something new to try. Thinking that the blonde haired elf he had seen looming above him was indeed Legolas, Aragorn suppressed the strange feeling in his stomach, wanting to enjoy this night.

His smile widened when he felt the mattress dip under the weight of his 'lover', and a moment later he felt the elf loom over him, hands resting on either side of his head. Fine hair tickled his face, and he laughed softly. He wanted to brush it away, but again slender fingers caught his hand, stilling his movements. Aragorn waited, his body still as he lay under the elf, and his patience was rewarded with warm, supple lips that brushed against his own. It was a tender kiss, almost shy, and Aragorn wondered at its almost abashed character. But only a second later, his lips were crushed under the passionate onslaught of the elf, a tongue circled his lips then sneaked between his teeth, and Aragorn moaned when his 'lover' explored his mouth so thoroughly as if they had never kissed before.

It was only the need for air that broke them apart, leaving them both panting. "Legolas…" Aragorn breathed, wanting to wrap his arms around his elf, but once more his arms were gently grabbed and then placed to his side. Legolas tasted different, but Aragorn, tipsy and a bit shaky from the kiss, ignored the feeling. Aragorn felt his heartbeat quicken at the strange behavior of his 'lover', but he was willing to play along with anything that Legolas had planned for them. He trusted Legolas, he loved him.

Nimble fingers opened the strings that held his nightshirt closed and it was pulled above his head. Aragorn heard the fabric land somewhere on the floor, but the blindfold effectively prevented him from seeing anything. His 'lover' let his fingers trace his collar bones, then all the way down his arms, and then up his chest. They stopped first at his navel, circling it, before slender fingers were replaced with a warm, wet tongue. Aragorn sighed and shifted, enjoying the feel of Legolas's tongue caressing him. When the tongue was done exploring his navel, the fingers moved along, over his ribs, tracing each one, until they came to rest on his neck. Left and right, fingertips circled, rubbed and teased, and when a tongue was added to the equation, Aragorn arched his back and moaned. He wanted to hold Legolas, to caress him too, but when he lifted his arms, they were gently held back. Frustrated but still willing to do as Legolas wanted, Aragorn sighed and rested his arms beside him once again.

He was rewarded with a kiss to his ear, then his neck, his sternum, and then his mouth again. Teeth bit lightly into his skin, only for the warm tongue to sooth the ache almost immediately. With every hot kiss or stroke of the tongue, Aragorn felt his heart beat quicker and his arousal grow. Slowly, the wicked tongue travelled downwards, leaving wet skin behind, before it plunged into his navel, hot and warm and oh so teasing. Aragorn felt his body respond to the touch, felt his blood surge all the way down to his groin. Moaning, he tilted his head back, a smile playing around his lips. Maybe Legolas wanted to atone for his earlier behavior.

When his 'lover' pulled away the blankets, Aragorn shivered from the cold in the room. Gooseflesh appeared all over his body, and for a moment the teasing ministrations stopped. And then, as if Legolas had never seen goose bumps, slender fingers moved over his arms and chest, chasing them away with warmth. Hair tickled Aragorn's stomach, and when nimble fingers tugged around the waistband of his breeches and slowly pulled them down his legs, he truly wished that he would be able to see Legolas, so that he could enjoy the sight of his 'lover'.

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Lithdal was hard with need. From the moment he laid eyes on the sleeping man, he wanted nothing else then to feel him, taste him, make him his. For a moment he thought that his plan had been thwarted! When Aragorn opened his eyes the moment right before he put the blindfold into place, he thought that it was over. That his plan on making Aragorn see that he, Lithdal, was the only one he loved, had been ruined. If that had happened, he would have been forced to just take the young man, but that was not what he wanted. Aragorn needed to feel for himself that Lithdal was so much better than that Prince. That Lithdal was the only lover that Aragorn would react to. And then Aragorn whispered the name of the Prince, and although hate bubbled up in Lithdal, he knew then that his plan could still work. But he had to keep Aragorn from finding out too soon, so he used gentle persuasion to keep the lad still, so that he would not touch him.

Ah, those sweet lips, that tantalizing skin. The sight nearly drove Lithdal crazy, and he could not keep from touching, kissing, licking Aragorn in every place. The young lad tasted like fresh spring, like wine, like morning dew, like flowers, like leather….oh, he tasted like everything Lithdal remembered, and so much more. Nimble fingers worked loose the shirt, glided over tanned skin and brushed against sensitive spots. Under his hands, Aragorn sighed and moaned, and every sound that came from those supple lips pierced Lithdal's heart and drove him mad with need. Already his shaft was pulsing with pent up desire, and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep inside his lover.

But oh, the sweet agony of waiting, of restraining himself, was so much better than just charging forwards. He needed to prepare his lover, to make him ready to take him up. Lithdal knew that once they had found their completion, the blindfold would be removed. And when that happened, Aragorn must have forgotten Legolas once and for all, and love only him. So, Lithdal suppressed the pounding in his member, bit his lips and gently tugged his fingers under the waistband of Aragorn's breeches, pulling them down ever so slowly.

Lithdal's icy blue eyes widened when the young man's hardness sprang free from its confines, thick and hard, to come to rest on the young man's stomach. Quicker than he had planned, Lithdal removed the breeches and discarded them on the floor. His hands darted forwards, but then they hovered just above Aragorn's erect shaft. His hands stroked his own arousal though his breeches. Lithdal sighed, deep in his throat, his eyes glued to the young human's manhood. It was so much more than he remembered, so much better when seen close up. Oh, he wanted to feel it, to touch it…to taste it.

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Aragorn felt his erection spring free from his breeches and he sighed in relief. For a moment, nothing happened, and he had the strange feeling of floating in a sea of blackness, as if this was but a dream. But then almost cold hands touched the tender skin between his legs and stomach, and he shuddered. The fingers moved inwards, until they brushed his hardened shaft. Groaning, Aragorn arched his back, searching for the friction the hands would provide. His wish was granted as strong fingers took him, squeezing gently. A thumb ghosted above the tip of his member, eliciting a low moan of pleasure from him. This felt good, incredibly good even.

. Aragorn balled his hands into fists, and when the thumb once more stroked over the tender tip, he could not help but buck his hips, wanting more. The hands stilled, and shortly after hair tickled his stomach again, and warm lips pressed a kiss to his stomach, promising more.

His heart racing, Aragorn shifted on the bed, wanting to see Legolas, to kiss him, tell him how much he loved him. But he knew that Legolas wanted for him to stay blind, and so he obliged. But it was difficult for him, and when his 'lover's' fingers pushed his knees apart, he moaned his frustration and pleasure.

Warm lips kissed his thighs, brushed his sensitive skin, and Aragorn arched his back once more, wanting to feel Legolas. A finger brushed him, teasing him but not penetrating, and Aragorn felt his blood pulse through his veins. The rustling of clothing reached his ears, followed by a low thud that told him that his 'lover' had abandoned his shirt and thrown it to the floor. Smooth hands glided up his legs and stomach, before a warm tongue flicked lightly against his neck, leaving a warm trail behind. Moaning, Aragorn tilted his head back, exposing his vulnerable neck. A moment later, a soft sigh floated against his skin, making him shiver with pleasure.

To only feel Legolas but not be able to touch him or see him was driving Aragorn crazy. Never before had he just received love but not given it back. While he enjoyed the ministrations, he also wanted to make Legolas happy, to let him enjoy their love making. Not being able to touch Legolas was maybe even worse than not being able to see him, and Aragorn felt his resolve to do as Legolas had silently asked to waver. His body was screaming at him to do something, to move, to participate in the gentle caresses and warm kisses.

So, when a wet tongue teased his ear, while slender fingers slowly moved downwards again, nearing his hips, Aragorn's resolve broke. With a whimper on his lips he wrapped his arms around his 'lover', holding him close, while his hips bucked upwards. For a moment it seemed as if his 'lover' wanted to remove his hands, but Aragorn would have none of it. He tightened his hold, pulling the elf down to him, and pressed his lips onto his 'lover's'. Out of kiss swollen lips, Aragorn whispered Legolas's name, and his 'lover' relented. The elf's slender fingers resumed their downward movement, while warm lips kissed their way down Aragorn's neck.

Filled with passion, Aragorn let his hands glide up and down Legolas's back, feeling the muscles flex under the skin. Once, twice his hands moved along his 'lover's' back, all the way from the hips to just above the ribs. And then his 'lover' gently bit him into the side of his neck. Aragorn hissed and his hands shot upwards to rest on his 'lover's' shoulder blades, as if Aragorn needed something to hold onto.

Suddenly, his stomach twisted painfully, as if someone had plunged a hook inside his navel and pulled at it strongly. At first, Aragorn was confused, unsure why his body reacted that way. His heart raced in his chest and he had difficulties breathing. Slowly, his hands slid down the slender back of his 'lover', and then it hit him. The terrible realization shot through him like an arrow through flesh and bone, and Aragorn gasped loudly.

There was no scar on his 'lover's' back.

Where 'his' Legolas had a still visible scar on his back from where the spider had stung him, this back was unmarred. There was no raised tissue, no light impression, nothing. Aragorn felt his breathing catch in his throat and the blood drain from his face. Whoever this elf was, it was not Legolas. It took Aragorn only the split of a second to put one and one together and the knowledge nearly killed him. This elf could only be one person. There was only one option. This elf….was Lithdal.

Fear flooded his system, quickly followed by sheer panic. This was Lithdal, not Legolas. Lithdal, the elf who had tried to touch him, to kiss him, to take what was not his. Lithdal, who had tried to kill Legolas and very nearly killed Aragorn in the process. Thousand of questions filled Aragorn's head; where did Lithdal come from? How was it possible that he was in the Palace? Who had helped him to sneak in? Why had he not realized earlier that it was Lithdal and not Legolas? But one question prevailed above all the others: What should he do now?

A shiver crawled down Aragorn's spine as slender fingers touched his thighs, and a warm tongue flicked against his ear. Bile rose in his throat, and he began to tremble in earnest. He wanted to push Lithdal away, wanted to scream for help, to get as far away from Lithdal as possible. But while his mind was running a mile a minute, his body seemed to be frozen in place. He could not even move his hands from Lithdal's shoulders.

And while he lay there, trembling and near panic, his mind whispered to him. So far, Lithdal had not tried to harm him, had not hit him or forced anything. He had made sure that Aragorn would not recognize him, yes, but he had not been brutal. So far. Aragorn knew that Lithdal was by no means a gentle person. He was capable of very gruesome things. Surely, if Aragorn let show that he had detected the ploy, that he knew that his 'lover' was Lithdal, then Lithdal would drop his mask and force him to obey. And Aragorn had no illusions; Lithdal was an elf, and much stronger than he. If it came to a struggle, Lithdal would win.

So what to do? What? His heart pumping, Aragorn suddenly felt Lithdal's mouth leave his neck and move downwards. The slender fingers slid to his hips, pressing them down into the mattress, so that he could not move. Lithdal's hair tickled his stomach and with sudden clarity Aragorn knew what Lithdal was about to do. Before he could stop himself, before he could even think about it, he whispered harshly, "No!"

The fingers stopped and Aragorn could feel Lithdal's gaze. What now? Oh, what to do? Again, Aragorn's mouth worked without his assistance. "Oil." He said, his voice barely understandable due to his heavy breathing. "P-please, use the oil." Would Lithdal do as he said? Would the elf think that it was pleasure that made Aragorn speak and not stark fear? For a moment, nothing happened, and Aragorn raked up his mind for something to say. And then it hit him that Lithdal would not know where the oil was. With a trembling hand, Aragorn reached out to the nightstand, so as if he wanted to take the oil himself.

'_Make him think you play along_.' A voice inside him whispered. '_Let him not see that you know._' Aragorn's fingertips touched the wooden surface of the nightstand, when another hand close around his, and then gently placed it down on the mattress. The bed shifted under him, and Aragorn felt Lithdal reach out to the nightstand himself. Hearing the drawer grate over the wood, Aragorn quickly thought and spoke, "It is in the bottom drawer."

Another pause, and then the bed dipped even lower and Aragorn felt Lithdal move off the bed. From the sounds Aragorn heard, Lithdal crouched down in front of the nightstand to be able to remove the oil. That was what Aragorn had hoped for. As silently as he could, he removed the blindfold from his eyes. His hands were trembling so strongly that it took him a moment or two, but when he blinked his eyes in the near complete darkness, he instantly knew that his worst nightmare had come true. There besides the bed, crouched low and bent over the open drawer of the nightstand…was Lithdal.

Bile rose again in his throat, and Aragorn swallowed thickly. This could not be true, this was not real! This was just another nightmare, an illusion. But he knew better, his body told him that this was very much real. He needed to do something, to get out of the room, to call for help! But would help come, would they hear him? And even if the cried for help, would they come in time to save him from the fate that Lithdal planned for him? It only took a few moments, a few minutes, and Lithdal would have taken what he wanted. Cold sweat broke out on his skin and his fingers began to tingle. He knew he had only a few seconds to decide what to do, and so he did the first thing that came to his mind.

Reaching out, Aragorn grabbed the heavy silver pricket from the nightstand and intending to let it crash down on Lithdal's head. But before the pricket connected with Lithdal's head, the elf's hand shot up, grabbed the pricket and stopped its movement. Icy blue eyes met grey orbs. From one second to the other, the room became deadly quiet and cold. Aragorn and Lithdal stared at each other, unmoving.

With a grimace of fury on his face, Lithdal suddenly pushed Aragorn's hand away and jumped to his feet. The pricket fell from his fingers and landed somewhere on the bed, useless. There was something feral about Lithdal, like a bull that had been caged for too long and had now broken free. A snarl left his lips, and he sneered down at Aragorn. Lust swirled in his eyes and Aragorn could easily see the bulge between his legs. For a moment, neither of them moved … and then all hell broke loose.

With a high pitched hiss Lithdal threw himself forwards, trying to hold Aragorn in place. Aragorn skittered backwards and off the bed. Because the bed stood at the other end of the room, between him and the door, Aragorn had no other choice than to run around the bed to reach safety. But Lithdal was quicker. Within the blink of an eye the elf was off the bed and on his feet. His arms shot outwards and grabbed Aragorn around the waist, effectively stopping his flight. A strong hand clamped over his mouth, keeping him from screaming.

Struggling, Aragorn tried to break free, shaking all over. He could feel Lithdal's naked chest pressed against his back, felt his hardness push against his behind. The smell of the elf was suddenly making him sick, overpowering him. Pictures out of his nightmares assaulted him, and Aragorn felt as if he was back there. Only, that no one would come and help him. This was real, this was dangerous.

Lithdal's grip tightened and his warm breath ghosted against Aragorn's ear, "Why so shy all of a sudden, Estel? Just a minute ago you could not get enough of me." Maniac laughter spilled forth from Lithdal's lips, crawling like serpents down Aragorn's back.

With strength born from fear, Aragorn twisted and turned, managing to break free from the elf. He had barely gone two steps when he was once more seized from behind. Lithdal laughed lightly, as if it was a game. "Oh sweet, innocent Estel. Come here, love." Lithdal pulled Aragorn close, but the young man resisted with as much strength as he could. He managed to twist free once more, if only for a second. But it was all the time Aragorn needed. While the door was still too far away to reach, the chair with his clothing on was not.

Aragorn's fingers closed around his belt, he pulled the long hunting knife from its sheath, turned around in Lithdal's arms and slashed with the weapon. The blade gleamed in the glow of the fire, but Lithdal was just too quick. With but a flick of his wrist he pushed the knife away, then grabbed Aragorn by the upper arm and pulled him close. Their bodies clashed against each other, and Lithdal stole a kiss from trembling lips. "So sweet."

Eyes wide and heart beating wildly, Aragorn tried to step away, to break free. But Lithdal would not let go of him. They struggled, Aragorn fighting with all he was worth, Lithdal trying to get Aragorn's free arm under control. He reached for it, but Aragorn stepped backwards. When Lithdal suddenly stepped forwards as well, Aragorn tripped over the rug that lay on the floor. Too surprised to be able to stop his fall, Aragorn crashed down hard. His momentum carried Lithdal with him, and they landed with a dull thud.

Stunned, they both lay there for a moment, unmoving. It was Aragorn who recovered first. With a mighty push he rolled away from under Lithdal and got to his feet, ready to race for the door, knife still in hand. Unwilling to let his 'love' go, Lithdal grabbed his ankle, pulling him down to the floor again. Lithdal quickly straddled Aragorn, pressing him to the ground. With nimble fingers the elf took the knife from Aragorn's hand.

"Tsk, tsk, Estel. Is this the way to treat an old friend?" Lithdal leaned down and whispered into Aragorn's ear, "I have waited so long for you, Estel. We should not rush things." And he reached down, tracing his hands over Aragorn's back. "We have all the time in the world. No one will disturb us tonight."

"No!" Aragorn sobbed, bucking to throw Lithdal off. This was just too much like his nightmares. This could not be real! This could not be happening to him.

"Yesss." Lithdal sighed, fumbling at his breeches.

When the sound of rustling fabric met Aragorn's ear, he lost all the control he still had over his body. Panic, wild and icy cold flooded his system, and before he knew what he was doing, he rolled onto his back, grabbed the knife that was still on the ground next to them, and stabbed upwards.

Surprised, Lithdal blocked the blow and pushed Aragorn's hand downwards. Before either of them realized what happened, the knife shot down and cut a deep gash along Aragorn's stomach. Blood immediately gushed forth, but Aragorn did not feel the pain. His mind shut down, the only thought in his head the one of getting away. Unheeding of the blood and the pain, Aragorn struggled to stand. He pushed past Lithdal, who kneeled stunned on the ground with wide eyes, and collapsed onto the bed.

A moment later Lithdal's hands grabbed him by the waist once more, almost tentative, but for Aragorn it was as if his hands were made of hot metal. With a wail, he reached for the next best thing he could grab and swung it over his head. The silver prick hit Lithdal full on the temple, and the elf fell to the ground without so much as a sound. A small trickle of blood ran down his face, and he did not move anymore.

Aragorn panted, staring down at the unconscious elf. His sight was blurring and foggy, and his whole body trembled. Again and again he shook his head from left to right, as if that would make the sight before him go away. This could not just have happened, it could not. Lithdal was not in his room, he had not blindfolded him, touched him, kissed him….

Aragorn heaved, the urge to throw up overwhelming. Staggering to the bathing chamber, he leaned over the washbasin and threw up. Violently. Cold sweat stood on his brow, his limbs trembled, and he clamped his eyes shut. When the heaving stopped, he opened his eyes but his vision was clouded by a grey mist. His gaze fell on his hands, and he frowned. Where was all the blood coming from? His eyes travelled lower, landing on the gaping wound in his stomach. That was when the pain set in. His knees gave out from under him and he slid down the wall, leaving a trail of smeared blood behind.

With cold, trembling fingers, Aragorn tried to stop the bleeding, but it was useless. '_A towel_', he thought sluggishly, '_I need a towel_'. Looking about, he saw some towels stacked on a shelf nearby. He took one and was just about to press it against the wound, when his eyes came to rest on his lower body. His manhood was still erect, his body not having yet realized the change in circumstances. A sob broke free, then another. Shame washed over Aragorn, and he placed the towel over his midsection, not wanting to see. He reached for another towel and pressed it against the wound, but he had already lost enough blood to make him lightheaded.

His eyes slipped shut out of their own accord, and Aragorn's grip on his wound lessened. More blood spilled between his fingers, staining the white towel a deep, crimson red. He pulled his knees to his body, shaking all over. The feeling of horror and shame was so overpowering that he thought he would have to throw up again. But before he could do that, his body shut down, his head tilted to the side, coming to rest on the wall, and he lost consciousness.

To be continued.

_°Clears throat° Reviews__?_


	9. Discovery

**Here comes chapter 10! I am away for a few days, and I hope to find many nice reviews in my inbox when I return, haha. :)**

Chapter 9: Discovery

Thranduil loved to get up early. Since he had been a very young elfling, he woke with the birds to greet the new day, and this had not changed in all the long years of his life. Even the day after the Winter Solstice celebrations, when most elves slept long into the morning, was no exception for him. An hour before dawn, Thranduil emerged from his room, wide awake and looking forward to the new day. There was much to do and organize, for the celebrations would last through this day as well, to be concluded at midnight with a great dance.

While Thranduil made his way down the corridor, he thought about the day ahead. There would be music and song, a few smaller dances here and there, the elflings would perform a play in the great hall and the cooks would make the most delicious pastries and snacks. At the thought of food, Thranduil's stomach grumbled. Maybe he should have breakfast first, before he began his chores for the day. Changing direction, he made his way down another hallway that would lead him not only past Legolas's room, but also to the kitchens. He had just rounded the corner, when the door to Legolas's room flew open and a shocking sight met his eyes. "Legolas!"

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Legolas hurt.

Groaning, he turned his head on his pillow, only to find that his head hurt with a vengeance. As if he had knocked it repeatedly against a hard object, like a wall or a table or against a whole mountain. Another groan left his lips as Legolas tried to open his eyes. Even that small movement hurt his head.

Staying as still as possible, Legolas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Sluggishly, his mind tried to come up with the explanation to his aching head. He remembered the last evening, the meals, the music and the drinks. Had he drunken that much that he now had a hangover? Legolas tried to recapitulate the last evening. He knew he had drunken a bit more of the red Dorwinion than had been good for him, but after that he had kept mostly to the white wine, which was not as potent as the Dorwinion. No, he should not feel like he did. So, why was his head pounding as if dwarves had taken up residence there?

Legolas took another deep breath and tried to open his eyes. And that was when he noticed that something else was wrong. There was a strange scent in the air, of metal and a bit sweet. What was this? Legolas knew instantly that he knew that smell, but with the aching of his head, he could not immediately make the connection. Frowning, he decided that getting up was probably a good idea, if only to plunge his head into a washbasin filled with cold water.

Legolas slowly lifted his head, only to groan when it hurt even more than before. And…some of his hair seemed to stick to the pillow. Reaching up, Legolas's fingers touched the side of his head. There was something….dry and crumbly in his hair. Now totally confused, Legolas pried his eyes open and squinted at his fingers. His eyes saw the reddish brown stains on his fingertips, and his heart beat wildly in his chest. What ….?

Slowly, his eyes moved around the room. There was more of the red substance on his pillow, the sheets, and even on the mattress. And then it hit him. Blood! This was blood, his blood! The feel of it, the smell..it hit Legolas like a hammer. He could not remember being injured the other day, surely not so bad that it would cause this amount of blood on his bed.

His frown deepened as he tried to remember what had happened the other night, but the last thing he remembered was getting to bed and falling asleep. With another groan, Legolas slowly sat up and touched the side of his head. The dried blood had caked his hair to his head, and he could feel the dried blood on his ear, cheek and neck as well. What in the name of the Valar had happened to him?

And then Legolas saw the shards of broken pottery on the ground. His eyes flew to his nightstand, where he could see that his water jug was missing. Cold fear settled in Legolas's stomach. He knew that he had gotten to bed uninjured. The water jug had stood 'at the other end of the nightstand, away from the bed'. Even if he had rolled over in his sleep and bumped against the nightstand, the water jug _never_ could have hit him. Legolas shivered. Someone must have been in his room at night. Someone must have hit him over the head with the jug.

In a flash of horror, Legolas remembered the tales he had heard about missing food and uniforms. 'Lithdal', he thought with a gasp, 'it must have been Lithdal. He is here!' Panicked, Legolas swung his legs from the bed, only to crumble to the ground the next second. A wave of dizziness washed over him and the room spun around him. Feeling sick, Legolas took a few deep breaths, before he slowly climbed to his feet.

When Lithdal was in the Palace and had already tried to kill him last night, then what about Aragorn?

A sob of helplessness escaped Legolas's lips as he realized that he must have been unconscious for many hours. Ample time for Lithdal to go to Aragorn's room and do Valar knows what to the young man.

With new vigor, Legolas stumbled to the door and flung it open. As another wave of dizziness hit him, he collapsed to the ground, covered in blood and shaking all over. His blood rushed in his ears and he was only dimly aware of someone calling his name. A moment later, strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and the same voice he had heard earlier, once more called his name.

"Legolas? Son, answer me."

Panting against the pain in his head and the urge to throw up, Legolas tilted his head to the side and saw his father crouch beside him. Reaching out, he clung to his father's arm as if it was a lifeline. "Ada!" He croaked, and then swallowed quickly to keep from vomiting all over his father's robes.

"Legolas, ion nin, what happened?" His father's voice asked worriedly.

"Lithdal." It was barely a whisper, but the King heard it perfectly well. A moment later, the loud, stern command of "GUARDS!" roared through the hallway, echoing from the walls. Legolas, still clinging to his father's arm, tried to get to his feet. "We need to get to Estel, ada, now."

"Legolas, you are wounded, my son. You must not move."

Running footsteps neared their position, but Legolas would not be swayed from his path. "No, ada, he was not after me, Lithdal always ever wanted Estel." With his father still holding him by the shoulders, he managed to get to his knees. The world swayed around him, and he had to concentrate to keep his stomach silent. With as much speed as he could, Legolas climbed to his feet. Had it not been for his father's steadying arm around his waist, he would have fallen over immediately. The footsteps were close now, just around the corner.

Legolas lifted his eyes and locked them with his father's, "Ada, please. We need to help Estel, now."

The King hesitated. He feared what had happened to the young human, but he knew not if the threat Lithdal was still in the Palace. He could not let his only son charge into the human's room and into danger. The guards could take care of the problem, that was safer. But when he looked into the worried eyes of his son, he found himself nodding, "Very well, let us go." Tightening his grip on his swaying son, the King followed Legolas down the hallway. They had barely gone three steps when a group of heavily armed guards appeared at the other end of the corridor. When they saw their King helping an obviously injured Prince along, their faces reflected shock and worry.

Among the group of guards were Merenor and Silien, who had been on their way to the kitchens when they had heard the commotion. Upon seeing their friend and Prince covered in blood, they exchanged one look, and then surged forwards.

"Legolas, what happened?" Merenor asked, quickly looking around for a possible threat.

But Legolas only shook his head and moved down the corridor, aided by his father. The guards created a circle around them, swords drawn although they saw no threat. Legolas was so focused on getting to Aragorn's room, that he never heard the silent commands that his father gave the guards.

"Get a few healers up here and more guards. Get the gates closed and let no one out. Search the whole Palace for the intruder you have been warned about already. And when you find him, bring him straight to the dungeons. He tried to kill my son, there will be no need to be gentle with him." The last sentence was ground out and emphasized with so much anger that the guards nodded silently and did as their King asked without another backwards glance.

One hand at the wall to keep the world from spinning, Legolas made his way down the corridor as quickly as he could. Aragorn's door was only a few more yards away now, and Legolas felt his heart race in his chest. His mind kept turning over and over with the thoughts of what Lithdal might have done to his young lover. When he reached the door, he frantically banged his fist against the wood and turned the knob with the other.

"Estel! Open the door!" He put his weight against the wood, but the door would not open. It was locked.

In the second Legolas realized that the door was locked, he felt his knees buckle under him. Aragorn never locked his door when he was alone in his room. There was no need to. The fact that the door was now closed could only mean one thing. Lithdal had locked it. Lithdal was either still in there with Aragorn or had locked the door behind him after leaving. Had it not been for his father's firm grip on him, Legolas would have sagged to the floor. "Estel." He more sobbed than said, and the sound nearly broke Thranduil's heart.

The King wrapped his other arm around his son's waist and pulled him back against his chest. He took a few steps back, taking Legolas with him. With a stern look at one of the guards, he ordered grimly, "Open that door."

The nearest guard handed his sword to another warrior, placed his shoulder against the door and then pushed. The wood would not budge, and the warrior tried it again, this time with more inrun. The wood crunched, but the door did not open. It took the elf three tries, but then the door parted from the door frame, flew inwards and crashed against the wall. The elf stumbled a step forwards, carried by his momentum. The room inside was dark, the fire in the hearth having gone out during the night.

Breaking free from his father's supportive hold, Legolas stumbled into the room. In the blink of an eye he took in the still figure on the ground, the empty bed with the crumbled sheets and the fact that Aragorn was nowhere to be seen.

"Estel?" He called, venturing deeper into the room. "Estel!" But no one answered him, and Legolas felt his throat constrict with worry. Where was he? What had Lithdal done? He spared one glance at the elf that lay prone on the floor, noticing that he was shirtless. Even with the darkness in the room he could see that it was Lithdal. A small trickle of blood ran from his temple to the chin, but otherwise he seemed to be unhurt. But if Lithdal lay unconscious on the floor, obviously knocked out by Aragorn, why had the young man not called for help? Why had he not opened the door and alerted the guards?

Behind him, the King entered the room, as did Merenor and Silien. Two more guards stepped inside behind them, looking around the room and guarding the door. Concern was clearly visible on their faces, for they loved their Prince and had come to like his young guest from Rivendell, too.

Looking around frantically, his eyes searching the room, Legolas saw that there was more blood on the floor than could have been caused by Lithdal's head wound. Then his eyes alighted on a bloody knife. Paling, he stumbled towards the bed, making sure that Aragorn was not lying on the ground at the other side. But the floor war empty and there was no sign of the human. A sob rose in his throat, "Estel?!"

"Legolas." It was Silien who spoke, his voice soft and full of worry.

Snapping his head around and ignoring the pain that spiked in his skull, Legolas looked to where Silien was standing next to the door that led to the bathing chamber. The elf's face was pale, and there was a definite trace of pity in his eyes that made Legolas's stomach flip. With but a few large steps the Prince was at the door to the bathing chamber and looked inside.

"NO!" With a scream of denial on his lips, Legolas stormed into the bathroom and fell to his knees beside the prone figure of his young lover. There seemed to be blood everywhere. On the floor, on the chest that held the washbasin and even on the wall, as if Aragorn had slid down on it. Legolas stared at the sight before him, disbelief, worry and anger flashing across his face. Aragorn was unclothed, a towel the only piece of fabric preserving his dignity. He was pale as a ghost, and there was blood smeared on his chest and lower abdomen. His slack fingers held another towel to his stomach, and both -towel and hands- were crusted with dried blood.

"No, Estel please don't do this to me." Legolas sobbed and took his friend's pale face in his hands. His thumbs stroked his high cheekbones, but there was no reaction. Another sob escaped Legolas's lips and tears streamed down his cheeks. Unaware of the elves standing in the open doorway behind him, Legolas pressed his forehead against Aragorn's and whispered softly, "Please, Estel. You cannot leave me. Not now, not after all we have been through. Estel please, love. I cannot live without you. Estel, please wake up. Please!"

Behind him, King Thranduil turned to Merenor, who stood silently beside him, "Arrest that elf if he still draws breath and bring him to the dungeons. I want this room cleared of the guards, they can guard the room from outside. With the door closed." Thranduil's eyes bored into Merenor's, his message clear. If any guard would set foot inside the room before the King allowed it, heads would roll. Understanding that the King wanted to grant his son and the young man as much privacy as was possible, Merenor simply nodded and did as he was ordered.

Signaling two guards, he made them bind Lithdal's hands behind his back and then carry the still unconscious elf out of the room and towards the dungeons. The rest of the guards left the room as well, closing the door behind them, but not before two healers slipped inside.

Thranduil saw the healers and beckoned them towards him with a nod of his head. He knew not if Elrond's son was still alive, but he dearly hoped so. Since the day he had met the young human and had seen Legolas interact with him, he had had his doubts over his son's relationship with the young man. He might be a King and busy with ruling a kingdom, but he was also a father and not blind to his son's subtle signs of something that was more than pure friendship. The sight of Legolas, kneeling before his unconscious friend, crying and sobbing and calling the young man 'love', was only the last proof that Thranduil needed to know that his son and the young man were not mere friends, but apparently lovers as well. Thranduil had not been sure how he felt about this, but now he shoved these questions and feelings to the back of his mind.

This night, an elf had tried to kill his son, had sneaked into the room of Elrond's son, from the sight of the room and the unclothed state of the man, done the Valar knew what to him, and on top of that, had obviously gravely injured him. Questions about the why and the how could wait. First of all, Elrond's son needed medical help, as did Legolas. Seeing his son crying over the prone form of the young man made Thranduil flinch in sympathy and he stepped silently into the room.

Taking his son by the shoulders, he gently tried to pull Legolas away from Aragorn, so that he healers could get to work. But Legolas would not let go of Aragorn, his whole body trembling.

"Legolas, ion nin." Thranduil crooned, his voice gentle. "You did all you could. Come, let the healers care for him now."

A sob came from Legolas, but then he slowly let go of Aragorn and sat back. His eyes moved to his father's, "I don't want to leave him, ada."

Thranduil thought for a moment, then nodded, "You won't have to, son. But now the healers need to take a look at him. And at you, too. Come, Legolas." Legolas nodded his head in acceptance, but before he stood to his feet, he leaned forwards and placed a kiss on Aragorn's forehead. "Don't leave me, Estel, please."

With an arm wrapped around Legolas's waist, Thranduil helped his son to his feet and then slowly backed out of the bathing chamber. The two healers quickly crouched down beside Aragorn and began their work. Silien stood to the side, unsure what to do, but unwilling to leave either. When Legolas had pressed a kiss to Aragorn's forehead, he had exchanged a long look with Merenor, but said nothing. While Merenor obviously was not sure how he felt about this, Silien was filled with pity for his friend. If the young human would not make it through this, Legolas would be shattered, of that he was certain.

Legolas's eyes never left Aragorn, and Thranduil did not force him to sit down or go anywhere where he could not see the young man. The King did not need to be a healer to feel the wildly beating heart of his son under his fingers or the shaking of his body. And he knew that Legolas's thoughts would be on Aragorn only. So, he said nothing, but simply held his son close, giving all the support he could.

The healers quickly assessed the injury and announced that Aragorn was alive, but barely so. The wound was grievous and he had lost a lot of blood. Due to his lack of clothing and the rather cold ambience of the bathing chamber, his body had cooled out and was in dire need of warmth. The healers were of the opinion that his condition was critical. It was a long while before the healers declared that Aragorn could be moved, and when they did so, they used the utmost care. Placing him on a stretcher that had been brought, they wrapped him in blankets and then slowly carried him to the healing quarters.

Thranduil, still supporting Legolas, followed the two healers, as did Silien and Merenor. Lithdal had been brought to the dungeons, were another healer took care of him. Numerous guards followed the little procession to the healing rooms, alert for more danger. Servants and elves who had come for the festivities stared at the blood that clung to Legolas's hair and face. The moment the doors to the healing rooms closed behind the group of elves, rumors began to spread in the Palace, one farther from the truth than the other.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

"My Price, you have to hold still." The healer said for maybe the tenth time, but Legolas could not keep from turning his head to the right, to where Aragorn lay on an examination table. At least four healers bustled around his still form, and from what Legolas could see, they were all worried.

Ignoring the fingers of the healer under his chin that were not so gently trying to get him to look straight ahead, Legolas watched as one of the healers took a long needle out of a bowl with hot water, put a long string of thread into it, and leaned closer over the wound in Aragorn's stomach. Legolas had to swallow thickly at the sight. From the moment he had entered Aragorn's room to this very moment, he had tried to ignore the truth of what his eyes told him. That maybe the injury was not as bad as he thought. That Aragorn was well. That this was nothing more than a nightmare. The sight of a healer sticking that long needle into Aragorn's tender skin was too much for him to bear.

Finally turning his head away, Legolas placed his face into his hands. He was unable to quench the sobs that escaped his lips, and he did not care who was watching or listening. Aragorn was grievously wounded, his condition was critical, and it was all his – Legolas's – fault.

He had _known_ that Lithdal was around, had _known_ that the elf would try to get near Aragorn. And what had he done? Nothing. He had not even told his lover that Lithdal had followed them over the Misty Mountains, had not told him that it had been Lithdal who had rescued him from the orcs. No, worse, he had even let Aragorn believe that it had been _him_ who had saved him. He had lied to Aragorn, had made him think that he was safe in Mirkwood. Oh, if they had just stayed in Rivendell, then nothing of this would have happened. Elladan and Elrohir would never have allowed that something like this happened. They would have protected their little brother and would have kept him from harm. But he, Legolas, had done nothing to protect him. Surely if he had told Aragorn that Lithdal was close, then the young man would have taken precautions, like locking his door at night. Then Lithdal would have never been able to enter his room and…and …

Legolas shuddered at the thought and willed his mind to not go down that path. He did not know what had transpired in Aragorn's room, but he was no fool. Aragorn usually slept with nightclothes on, and when he had been found, he had been naked. And Lithdal had been shirtless. The sheets on the bed had been crumbled, the pillows thrown to the side. Legolas needed to be no seer to put one and one together and imagine what had happened between Lithdal and Aragorn. But the thought alone was too horrible to bear. This could _not_ have happened. Not after all that Aragorn had been through the last time that Lithdal had lain hands on him.

The numerous times that Aragorn had woken from horrible nightmares flashed through Legolas's mind, the fear and panic he had seen reflected in Aragorn's eyes when he had been lost in the cave system and thought that Legolas was Lithdal. How long it had taken for Aragorn to get over this! And now…now it was all back, and worse. Now his nightmares had become reality.

Suddenly, a gentle hand squeezed his shoulder and his father's voice reached his ears, "Ion nin, don't cry. All will be well again."

But at his father's words, only more tears flowed, and Legolas sobbed harder. Leaning against his father's chest, he tried to take what comfort he could from the simple touch. He could not speak due to his emotions, but he simply knew that things would _not_ be as they once were. Never again.

Legolas lost all feeling of time. The healers cleaned the cut on his head, and bandaged it and made him change his clothing. They washed his hair and made him drink some tea, all the while talking to him and asking him questions. And he answered, although he did not know what the questions were about. His mind was too focused on Aragorn, and when his crying ceased, he not once tore his eyes away from his friend. His father stayed at his side, while Silien and Merenor left them alone.

While Legolas watched over his friend from beside the bed, the guards that had accompanied Estel and Legolas to Mirkwood had been alerted that something had happened to their charge. They took up position outside of the healing wing, eyeing the Mirkwood guards with steely determination. Nothing would get past them and hurt their Lord's son…again. Not while they were on watch. They practically took over the guarding of the healing wing, and only a stern word from the King ended the silent fight between the Imladris and Mirkwood guards. Now, they worked together as best they could to protect whoever was in the healing wing.

Now, hours after finding Aragorn, the healers finished their task of trying to save the young man's life. They cleaned and stitched the wound, rubbed the man's limbs to get the blood to circulate and forced warm teas and potions down his throat. After that, they washed him from the blood and placed him in a soft bed, in a private room of the royal healing wing. When Aragorn had been settled into the bed, Legolas sat down in a chair that stood besides the bed and took one of Aragorn's cold hands in his own. His eyes fixed on his friend's face, he almost did not notice the entrance of the master healer, Thurinir.

"My King, my Prince." Thurinir said, bowing his head the tiniest bid. He had known both King and Prince for many years, and there was no need to be overly formal with them.

"Thurinir, my friend." King Thranduil said, his voice solemn, "What can you tell us?"

Thurinir shot one look at Legolas, who was still fixed on Aragorn, and wondered for a moment if the young elf was listening. He was just to ask that very question, when Legolas flicked his eyes to him for the shortest of moments, before they settled back on Aragorn's pale face. Taking a deep breath, Thurinir began to explain the seriousness of Aragorn's injuries.

"The wound itself is long and deep. The knife not only cut through flesh and muscle, but also went deep enough to injure his stomach itself. Blood seeped into his abdominal cavity, and a lot of it. Furthermore, he lost a lot of blood, which caused his body to shut down. We were able to remove the blood from his abdominal cavity and stitch the wound. But, his condition is critical."

Thranduil sighed and moved a hand through his hair. He had hoped that the healer would bring better news. He had known that the human's injuries were severe, but he had hoped that now that he had been treated, the healer would say more positive things. He was so lost in his thoughts, that he barely heard Legolas's soft question, "When will he wake?"

Thurinir did not know how to best answer this question, and so he simply said the truth, "I don't know, my Prince. And given his injury, I'm not sure…if he will ever wake up again. He has just lost so much blood."

Too both the King's and Thurinir surprise, Legolas simply nodded, but did not break down in tears again. The master healer and the King talked for a few more minutes, and Thurinir was already at the door when Legolas's voice made him stop. "Thurinir, if you have one more minute, I would speak to you alone."

Master healer and King exchanged a glance, but Thranduil did not hesitate and quietly left the room. He closed the door behind him, giving his son the privacy he obviously needed. Alone with the master healer, Legolas looked up from Aragorn's lifeless form. "There is something I need to ask you, Thurinir."

"Anything you wish to, my Prince."

Worry and shame reflected in Legolas's blue eyes, and they filled with tears again. Brushing them away before they could fall, Legolas linked his fingers with Aragorn's. It was not an easy question to ask, and Legolas had long battled with himself if he even should ask it. But his heart wanted to know, and he knew that he would never find peace if he did not. But how to phrase this question? Legolas knew that Thurinir would never speak to anyone about the things they discussed in this room, but still…

For a few more minutes, Legolas simply sat there, silent and contemplating. The mast healer saw his inner struggle and did not press him. He knew that Legolas would speak when he was ready. Finally, Legolas sighed deeply and voiced his question, "Thurinir, could you…could you examine him again and tell me whether…whether he has been…" His voice broke down and he could not go on. The tears that he had brushed away minutes ago now cascaded down his cheeks, and his chest heaved in suppressed sobs.

But there was no need for Legolas to continue. Thurinir, with his long years of experience as a healer, knew what Legolas wanted to know. With a gentle squeeze of Legolas's shoulder, he nodded his head, "Of course, Legolas."

While Thurinir examined Aragorn, Legolas blankly stared at the wall. He could not watch while his friend and lover was undergoing this particular examination. When it was done, Thurinir smoothed the blankets back over Aragorn and shook his head, "No one has touched him, my Prince."

Hope flared to life in Legolas's chest, hope that Aragorn had been spared at least this cruel fate, "Are you sure?"

"Aye, I am sure, Prince Legolas."

Relief washed over Legolas, and he smiled at the healer, "Thank you, Thurinir."

The healer simply nodded and then left the room. Before he closed the door he threw one last look at Legolas. The young elf's face was grim again and pinched with worry. For the first time since hundreds of years, Thurinir felt his healer-composure break. He dearly hoped that this young man would wake up and get well again. If he did not, he was not sure if Legolas would fade from grief.

Inside the room, Legolas placed his aching head down on the blankets. The healers had given him something against the sickness and the pain, but the world still tilted from side to side sometimes and the pounding in his head had not yet lessened. Legolas knew that he had a concussion, but he was not willing to leave Aragorn's side. Valar, the man looked so young, so vulnerable. Not even after the fire had Aragorn looked that…fragile. Tears welled up in Legolas's eyes and he wiped them away. It was all his fault, he was to blame for his lover's current situation. What if Aragorn died? That could not happen, it just could not.

Legolas sniffed and placed a kiss on the cold fingers he still held in his own hand. He dearly wished to know what had happened that night, but the only two who could tell him were unconscious right now. For a brief moment, red hot anger bubbled up inside of him at the thought of Lithdal, but he quickly quenched it. Anger would not help him, and Aragorn needed him now.

For long minutes, Legolas gazed at the pale face of his friend, wondering what Aragorn had gone through, and praying that his young friend would wake up soon. He feared what the future might bring, but he also hoped that there _would_ be a future. Slowly, his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep. The last thought before he fell asleep was, that he would have to write a letter to Rivendell as soon as possible.

To be continued.


	10. Relief without salvation

**Hello, here is the new chapter. Originally these were two chapters, but after re-reading them, I decided that they individually were too short and without much content. So I edited them and combined them in this chapter. Have fun reading! Reviews are much appreciated. :)**

Chapter 10: Relief without salvation

It had been four days and Aragorn still hadn't woken up. Every day the healers coaxed teas and potions down his throat that would strengthen his body, they massaged his limbs and washed the sweat from his feverish body. Through all this time, Legolas never left his side for long amounts of time, wanting to be there when he woke up. If he woke up…

The healers, King Thranduil, Merenor and even Silien talked to Legolas, trying to make him understand that maybe, maybe Aragorn would not wake up at all. The young human had lost too much blood, his body had gone into shock and shut down before help had arrived, and the fever that had set in the day after the attack was sapping his strength. But Legolas would not heed their words. He would listen and nod, thank them for their kind words and comfort, and then turn his attention back to his still friend, their words already forgotten.

And really, he thought, he knew Aragorn better than they did, he knew him better than anyone in the Palace. It did not matter what they said, for Aragorn was stronger than they thought. He was a strong young man, a fighter, a warrior. He would pull through this and emerge stronger than before. Legolas was sure of this. Aragorn would not leave him now, not after all they had been through.

But despite his faith in his friend, Legolas sat down the morning after Aragorn had been found and wrote a long, sad letter to Lord Elrond. He wrote of the attack, of Aragorn's condition, and his own guilt in not having warned the young man of Lithdal. He left nothing out, embellishing nothing. He only wrote the truth, and it nearly broke his heart to write to his lover's family that he had not been able to protect Aragorn from harm. He sealed the letter and brought it to the room that housed the carrier falcons. He knew that a carrier pigeon would not be able to make the journey across the Misty Mountains in this weather, but he hoped that a falcon would be able to brave the cold and snow.

After that, he felt a bit better, but he knew that he would only feel well again when Aragorn finally woke up. His own injury was healing nicely, and he rarely felt dizzy anymore. The healers ordered him to lay down a lot and to take it easy, and for once Legolas did as they asked. He stayed in his chair beside Aragorn's bed, either sleeping or staring at Aragorn's pale face, doing practically nothing that could aggravate his injury.

Outside of the healing rooms, life went on. Rumors spread through the Palace like the plague, and one piece of gossip was worse than the other; but none of them came even close to the truth. But no matter what rumors the elves chose to believe in, they all felt very sorry for Legolas and the young guest from Rivendell.

With Legolas sitting at Aragorn's side, unmoving and practically deaf to the outside world, the task of unraveling the mystery of what had happened that night was placed upon the King's shoulders. He wanted to know what had happened to his beloved son, and what had caused the former messenger to attack Lord Elrond's son. And Thranduil knew that as soon as this news reached Rivendell, not even the deepest of winters could keep the twins, Elrond and probably even Glorfindel from riding to Mirkwood. He better had some answers before they arrived.

But although the King wanted answers, there were other things to contemplate first. And talking to the captive had no haste. The healers told him that Lithdal had woken up and was faring well. The injury was not serious, and he was already eating and drinking again, as if nothing had happened. Lithdal would go nowhere, Thranduil knew. He would get his punishment and the King his answers. But first, Thranduil wanted to talk to his son. He wanted to hear his side of the story, for surely there was more to the story of Lithdal, Aragorn and Legolas, than his son had told him so far. Thranduil would never forget the sight of his son kneeling beside the unconscious human, holding his face in his hands and calling him his 'love'. Never before had the King seen such love, devotion and stark fear cross his son's face, not even when he had been together with Merenor, so many many years ago.

As a father, Thranduil knew that Legolas had deep feelings for Elrond's son, and now that he thought back over the weeks that the young man had resided in the Palace, he remembered scenes and snippets of conversations, touches and smiles that clearly showed that Aragorn cared for Legolas, too. Had Thranduil looked better, he would have seen that his son and Aragorn were more than mere friends.

Deep down in his heart, Thranduil was happy for his son. Legolas was not an elf who could stand to be alone for long periods of time, and from the moment that Legolas had been old enough to have relationships, there had barely been a time that he had not been seeing someone. His relationship with Merenor had lasted the longest, and Thranduil had been sad when their relationship had ended. After that, Legolas had found joy in many different places, but never stayed long. Thinking back, Thranduil tried to remember Legolas's last lover, but he could not come up with either a name or a face. With sudden realization, the King realized that Legolas had not engaged in any affair since the day he had come home from Rivendell and told him that he had met a young man named 'Estel'. At that realization, a warm feeling settled in Thranduil's stomach, and he knew that his son had found someone he truly cared for, someone he truly loved.

And whatever had happened in Imladris last year, whatever Lithdal's reasons for nearly killing his son were, Thranduil wanted to hear the story from his son first, and not from Lithdal. Legolas deserved that, as did the young man who lay in the healing rooms, pale, feverish and at death's door.

But although Thranduil knew he did the right thing, his heart was heavy as he made his way to Aragorn's room. He knew not how his son would react, and he feared that Legolas would not talk to him, blocking off his emotions and crawling deeper into the cocoon he had created around himself since the hour he had laid eyes on the injured young man. Thranduil hesitated momentarily at the door to the healing room, but then pushed his hesitation aside. Upon entering the room, Thranduil felt his heart constrict in his chest. His son looked almost as pale as the human, with dark circles under his eyes. He looked thinner, too, although it had barely been four days since the attack.

Thranduil softly closed the door behind him and made his way over to stand behind his son. Placing a hand on Legolas's shoulder, Thranduil gave him a gentle squeeze. "How is he?"

"No change." Legolas said softly, his voice steady but weak. Thranduil saw that he clasped Aragorn's hand with his own, gently stroking the unmoving fingers.

"Legolas, ion nin, we need to talk." Thranduil pulled a chair over and sat down, watching his son's face. Legolas sighed, but he nodded his accord. Apparently his son had anticipated this particular conversation, and was not shying away from it.

"What do you want to know, ada?" Legolas asked softly, sharing a quick glance with his father before fixing his gaze back on Aragorn's face.

"Everything, my son." Thranduil gently said and leaned back against the back of his chair. He could see the emotions flash across Legolas's face, too fast for him to read. When Legolas did not answer immediately, he waited patiently. He knew that it was not an easy tale for his son to tell, and he would give Legolas all the time he needed.

Deep immersed in his thoughts, Legolas dipped a cloth in the bowl of water that stood on the nightstand, pressed out the excess water and then gently placed it on Aragorn's feverish brow. The young man did not acknowledge the touch, and Legolas sighed deeply.

"It all began last spring, when Lithdal came to Imladris, bearing your message." Legolas began in a small voice, his fingers unceasingly stroking Aragorn's. He had told his father about Lithdal before, but Legolas had so far not told his father that he himself harbored feelings for Aragorn, too. Feelings, that Lithdal was jealous of, and that this was the real reason that the elf had tried to kill him. Thranduil listened quietly, reading between the lines when his son evaded a topic or was brief about it. But from what he could tell, Legolas adored this young man, and blamed himself for his current condition. When Legolas ended his tale, his eyes glistening with tears, the King placed a hand on his son's back and began to rub soothing circles.

"Legolas, do you love Estel?" He asked softly, for this was the one thing his son had not yet said with so many words. He had spoken of deep feelings that Lithdal was jealous of, but there had been no word of love so far. But Thranduil wanted to be certain.

Swallowing thickly, Legolas nodded his head minutely. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke, "Aye, I do love him ada. With all my heart."

A warmth spread through the King at those words, for he was glad that his son had found someone he loved and cared for. It was rare in these dark times. But he also felt his heart constrict in sympathy and worry. Deep blue eyes strayed to the still form on the bed, and the King knew that should the young man die, it would break Legolas's heart.

"Ion nin, does he reciprocate your feelings?"

A sob, "Yes."

"Oh, Legolas." Thranduil wrapped his arms around his son's shoulders and held him close. He could feel the slender shoulders shake in his embrace, and he wished he knew what to say to make his son feel any better. But there was nothing to say, and so the King gave comfort by simply being there for his son when he needed him. They sat like that for many minutes, both elves lost in thought. When Legolas finally broke the silence that lay heavy on the room, his voice was muffled by his father's shirt, "We wanted to tell you the morning after the Winter Solstice celebrations. I promised Estel to tell you."

"Why did you not tell me sooner, son?" Thranduil asked gently, stroking his son's long hair. Absently he noticed that it had lost its glow, and was now of a dull shade.

"I was afraid, ada." Legolas wiped his eyes and pressed his face against his father's strong chest. "I did not know how you would react to Estel and me being lovers as well as friends."

Thranduil sighed inwardly at this confession, wondering why his son would think that he would dislike the relationship. Of course, Thranduil was not overly happy that Legolas had to fall in love with a _human_, but that did not mean that he resented his son's love. Thranduil said as much, "Legolas…I am glad that you found someone you love. And Estel seems a decent and smart young man."

"But, are you not angry because he is human, ada?" Legolas asked, his face still buried in his father's shirt.

"No, I am not." Thranduil shook his head and resumed his stroking of Legolas's hair. "You are young, my son, and you will have many a year yet to live on this Middle-earth. Of course, I expect you to one day marry some fine elleth (female elf) and bear me some grandchildren, so that our line will continue through the ages of this world." The King felt Legolas stiffen in his arms, but he went on, knowing that he must say what he wanted, that Legolas needed to know the truth, "Estel is young also, and will have many years ahead of him. So, why should I resent you the few years of happiness you will have with him? Your time together will be but a blink of an eye compared to your whole life, Legolas. There will be time for a marriage and grandchildren later, after Estel is long gone."

"You cannot mean that!" Legolas broke free from his father's hold, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I love him, ada. How can you speak so callous of him?"

"Ion nin, I only speak the truth." Thranduil said and reached out a hand to touch his son's cheek, but Legolas moved away, out of his reach.

"Ada, you speak of him as if he was only some lofty fancy to me, like some childhood friend that I will forget as soon as I lose sight of him. I love him, ada! And I plan on staying with him for the rest of my life." Legolas nearly shouted, very agitated at his father's words.

"No, Legolas, not till the end of _your _life." The King said sadly. "Maybe till the end of _his_ life. He is mortal, Legolas, and he will leave this world someday."

Tears shone in Legolas's eyes, but his face was set in denial. He knew that his father was speaking the truth, but so far, he had never thought about it that way. It was a truth he had expertly managed to ignore. "That may be true, but after he has left me, I will not be together with someone else. I could not."

"Legolas." Thranduil sighed and bestowed a sad smile on his son. "I remember you saying almost the same words when you were together with Merenor. And now look at you, you have found a new love in Estel."

"But…" Legolas wanted to protest, but his father shushed him.

"I don't say it is wrong, Legolas. The heart often decides its own course of actions, and we have no other choice but to follow along. I am happy that you found Estel, and I hope that your life together will be a happy one, especially in these dark days. Enjoy your time with Estel, Legolas, for as long as you can. Take happiness out of every day you are granted."

Tears streamed down Legolas's face and he bowed his head. Thranduil quickly closed the distance between them and hugged his son close to his chest. "Shh, Legolas. I did not want to upset you, but I only thought it right to speak the truth. Ahh Legolas, I wish it was different. But look at your mother and I. We thought we had all the ages of this world to be together, and then fate intervened much too early."

"But I love him so much, ada." Legolas whispered brokenly.

"Then show him your love every day, Legolas."

When Thranduil left the sickroom, he felt his heart clench in his chest. He meant what he had said to Legolas, and he did not regret being frank with his son. He knew that once Aragorn died, Legolas would find new love, that was simply the way things were. Elves were not meant to be alone, their lives were just too long to spend them in solitude. And furthermore, Legolas needed to produce an heir someday, there was no debate about that. But that did not have to be today or even tomorrow or in a hundred years. Thranduil would not stand in his son's way regarding his relationship with the young man. If Aragorn even lived to have a life with Legolas, Thranduil mused darkly.

And while he made his way down the corridor that led to his private study, he thought about the things he had learned today, and the things he still had to do. There was an elf in the dungeons, after all, and he needed to…speak…with him.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

The corridor that led to the dungeons was lit by red torchlight, and his footsteps echoed off the stonewalls. Thranduil was not sure what awaited him in the cell that held Lithdal, and he had taken two guards with him as protection, just to be sure. The guards would wait at the end of the corridor, near enough to intervene if necessary, but far enough away so that his conversation with the captive would not be overheard. The King knew not what Lithdal would say once he was being face to face with him, but whatever it was, Thranduil would not jeopardize that any more rumors spread through the Palace.

Nearing the cell, Thranduil beckoned the two guards to leave him, and they did as they were asked. They took up positions at the end of the corridor, their spears at the ready. The door to the cell was of course locked, but Thranduil had no intention of opening it anyway. Instead, he slid the metal plate to the left, revealing metal bars as thick as fingers. Behind them, Thranduil could see into the small cell. There was no source of light, no lantern, no torch, and it took a moment or two for the King's eyes to adjust to the light.

When his eyes were accustomed to the darkness in the cell, he could make out the slender form of the prisoner, leaning against the back wall with his legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles. His light hair flowed over his shoulders, and once the King could make out his features, he saw that Lithdal was far from looking haggard or afraid. Instead, the elf was smiling. When their eyes locked, Lithdal gave a mock bow with his head, "Your Majesty."

Thranduil growled deep inside his chest, but he knew the sound would not carry to Lithdal. He was not here as a father, but as the King of this realm, and as such he would have to behave himself. Taking a deep breath, Thranduil pushed his roiling emotions to the side and looked down at Lithdal.

"Lithdal, I have come to you on this day to give you the chance to speak in your defense, and explain the circumstances that have brought you to my dungeon cell."

For a moment, Lithdal's smile faded and he looked almost angry, "Dungeon, you call it. A room of waiting, I say. I have waited long, I can wait longer."

"The only thing you are waiting for is your trial." Thranduil said coldly, his eyes fixed on Lithdal's face.

"My trial…" Lithdal mused, his smile returning. "I wonder what the accusation will be?"

Thranduil felt his hackles rise, for one second unsure what to say. What_ would_ the charge be? Lithdal had not been banned from the Palace, so he had not broken any laws by entering it. There was no proof that it had been him who had attacked his son. And Aragorn was still unconscious, and no one knew when – and if – he would ever wake up. And even if he did, would the young man tell his tale? Would he be strong enough to tell it in court, with the whole realm able to listen to it? Thranduil had his doubts that the young man he had got to know would do that. Valar, who would?

If possible, the smile on Lithdal's face widened at the King's silence, "My visit here has not gone unrewarded. While I wait, I have enough sweet memories to indulge in."

Thranduil felt his composure flutter and he balled his hands to fists, for he knew that Lithdal would not be able to see it. "Speak plainly now. Why did you try to kill the Prince?"

The smile faded once more, so fast that Thranduil almost flinched, "I take it he is not dead then. Otherwise I would be dead already, I guess. Or banned from the realm."

"Answer my question." Thranduil growled, his hands tight fists.

But Lithdal was silent, and did not answer the question. Seeing that he would gain no more information from the elf, the King snapped the metal plate back into position and strode down the corridor. He had barely gone three steps when manic laughter echoed from the cell, loud and shrill. Without a backward glance, the King left the dungeon, the two guards following him silently.

But if he had learned one thing from this visit, it was that Lithdal was not only crazy, but also very clever. Without Aragorn's statement, there would be no proof, and therewith no way to convict Lithdal of any crime. The elf who had tried to kill his son – twice now – would go free.

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The pain was not the first thing Aragorn registered upon awakening. And neither were it the slender fingers that gently stroked his own, or the well-known voice that called him name. No, when Aragorn awoke after six days of being oblivious to the world, it was a feeling of ice cold fear shooting through his stomach that jolted him awake. And the first thing that raced through his mind was the memory of the things Lithdal had done to him. Aragorn had been unconscious numerous times in his life, and so far he had always been fuzzy upon waking up, confused and unsure of what had happened to him. Not now. He remembered every moment, every touch and every kiss. His stomach churned.

"Estel? Can you hear me?" Legolas's worried voice reached his ears, but Aragorn's heart was pounding so fiercely in his chest that he barely heard him. Pictures danced behind his closed eyelids; of a half-naked Lithdal, of himself covered in his own blood and still aroused…Bile rose in his throat and his breathing quickened.

"Estel?" The fingers stopped stroking his hand and a moment later a cold hand was pressed against his forehead.

It was too much for Aragorn. This simple touch brought back the night of his attack, all the touches and caresses, the sighs and sounds. Without opening his eyes, Aragorn turned to the side and was sick over the side of the bed. His stomach quickly emptied, the little the healers had been able to trickle down his throat splattering onto the floor.

"Estel!" Legolas's voice was panicked now, sounding so loud in Aragorn's ears. "I need a healer in here!"

His eyes still closed, Aragorn tried to calm his breathing, but every time he inhaled, he thought to smell Lithdal's body, and his stomach churned violently again. But there was nothing more to spit out, and so he heaved dryly, shivering all over. And as if that was not bad enough, a red hot pain spread from his stomach all the way down his legs and up his chest. His whole body seemed to be on brightly burning fire. He was breathing too fast, and his hands and legs began to tingle. Aragorn felt his mind drift away to darkness again.

But suddenly, there were hands on him, many hands. A wet cloth was placed at his mouth, and strong hands turned him onto his back before a cup was pressed at his lips. He swallowed reflexively, and the cold liquid ran down his throat. He could feel it all the way down to his stomach, and he heaved again.

"Keep him on his side in case he throws up again." There were voices above him now, and more hands. They kept him down on the bed, on his side, making it almost impossible for him to move. Aragorn felt the pain in his stomach recede and also the sickness passed slowly. Whatever the healers had given him, it seemed to work. But all of a sudden, Aragorn felt so very tired. So tired. The voices around him dimmed and he heard them as if through a dense fog.

"He drifts away, turn him onto his back!" A voice commanded to his left, and a moment later Aragorn found himself being turned over so that he lay flat on his back once more. The movement aggravated his wound, and pain shot through his body. For a moment, Aragorn was wide awake, his head clear.

"We need to wake him up properly. He must not fall asleep again." The same voice ordered, and Aragorn groaned inwardly. He wanted to sleep, to forget. If they kept him awake, he would be forced to relive that horrible night. Aragorn wanted to forget what had happened, he did not want to wake up!

But the healers would not allow him to escape. Strong hands shook his shoulders, voices spoke loudly in his ears, and cold water was splashed onto his face. With every shake of his shoulders and drop of cool water on his face his mind became more and more alert, and Aragorn felt himself turn away from sleep and towards full wakefulness. Why would they not leave him alone?

A very persisted hand kept gently slapping his cheek, and Aragorn turned his head to the side to avoid the slight pain and the nuisance. Surely they all knew what had happened to him, what Lithdal had done. They knew that Lithdal had touched him, had kissed him, misled him and nearly…Aragorn could not bring himself to end this trail of thought. Again, his stomach churned, although it was already empty. What would they think of him? Would they pity him or rather shun him?

"Estel, wake up!" The same commanding voice reached his ears, and Aragorn knew that there was no way he could fall back asleep now. Where he had been barely conscious a moment ago, he was truly awake now. So, he took a deep breath and forced his heavy eyelids open.

The room was dimly lit, with a fire illuminating the few pieces of furniture it held. Some candles stood on a small table at the head of the bed, and a candelabra hung from the ceiling. At first, Aragorn had trouble focusing. All he saw were grey shapes that were moving around him. He blinked sluggishly a few times, and the grey shapes turned into the faces of healers, standing around his bed and looking down at him. Between all the faces, Aragorn could make out the face of the Master healer, Thurinir.

"Welcome back, Elrondion." Thurinir said, smiling down at him. "You gave us quite a scare, young man." The elf patted his arm, then said something to the other healers that Aragorn could not understand. And he did not want to. All he wanted to do was get back to sleep, so that he would not have to live with the memories of what had happened to him. But before his eyes had even half closed, a hand shook his shoulder and Thurinir's deep voice spoke loudly, "No Estel, you must not go back to sleep. Stay awake."

Aragorn blinked up at him, tired and exhausted and unwilling to comply. One by one the healers left the room, and Aragorn was alone with the Master healer. He had not the strength to argue with him. The wound in his stomach ached terribly, and his limbs felt very heavy. Why would they not let him sleep and escape the burning feeling of shame that filled him?

"Legolas, keep him awake while I prepare some tea." That was Thurinir's voice, and only then did Aragorn notice that there was someone else in the room with them.

"Aye, of course." Legolas said, his voice coming from Aragorn's left. A moment later, Aragorn felt slender fingers touch his shoulder, before they clasped his hand. A thumb began to stroke his palm.

Slowly, Aragorn turned his head to the left. When his eyes focused on Legolas's face, he almost recoiled under the intense stare that Legolas bestowed upon him. There were too many emotions swirling through the elf's eyes, and Aragorn could not read them. Afraid of what Legolas would think of him after what had happened, Aragorn turned his head away and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, Legolas's hand was under his chin, turning his head back towards him.

"Estel, open your eyes. You must not fall asleep again, you heard Thurinir." There was worry in Legolas's voice, mixed with relief, and Aragorn pried his eyes open once again. "Aye, that is better Estel, much better." Slender fingers stroked his hair away from his forehead, but instead of enjoying the touch, Aragorn felt his body stiffen. When Legolas caressed his cheek, Aragorn could not help but jerk his head away. The memories of Lithdal's touch were still too fresh in his mind, too close.

"Estel?" Legolas asked, his voice full of concern and confusion. "Are you sick again?"

Aye, Aragorn felt sick to the stomach, and his wound hurt. But more so his heart ached terribly, and it seemed to bleed profusely. He felt used and dirty, soiled and full of shame. How could he ever face Legolas again? How could the elf stand to touch him after what had happened? It was just too much. A sob rose in his throat, and he had not the strength to keep it inside. Soon, another sob followed, and a tear found its way down his cheek.

"Oh, Estel no." Strong hands hugged him, and Legolas's weight was pressed against him. But the gesture that had been meant to give comfort, only served to shatter Aragorn's heart more. For he was convinced that, as soon as Legolas had heard the full tale of what had happened that night, he would not be able to stand to touch him any longer. How could he, now that Aragorn was damaged beyond repair?

A few moments later, Thurinir returned to his bedside with a cup of lukewarm tea. Aragorn managed to drink it, and a few minutes later he fell asleep. Neither Legolas nor Thurinir tried to keep him awake this time, and Aragorn was grateful. He hoped that when he woke again, they would have left him alone, so that he could wallow in his misery, alone.

When he awoke next, he was indeed alone. Once the fog left his mind, he heard soft voices coming from the doorway, and he could see that the door was not closed, but had been left slightly ajar. Aragorn could not make out the voices, but he had no doubt that at least one of the speakers was Legolas. The elf had been at his side when he first woke, and surely Legolas had not left him…yet.

Too his surprise, the thought that Legolas had sat with him while he had been unconcious, warmed Aragorn's heart. Maybe Legolas did not care about what had happened. Maybe Legolas did still want to spend time with him, hold him…still loved him. But oh, how could he?! Aragorn swallowed thickly and suppressed a sob as the memories of that night flooded his mind. He felt so dirty, so used. Every moment of the night played before his closed eyes, and Aragorn could smell, feel and remember all the things that had happened between him and Lithdal. Had his stomach not been empty already, he would have been sick again.

How was it possible that he had not noticed that it was not Legolas with him, but Lithdal? How? Aragorn could not find an answer, and the longer he lay in bed, pondering those thoughts, the more he began to think that maybe what happened had been his own fault. For surely, if he loved Legolas as much as he thought and despised Lithdal as much as he always said, then he would have recognized Lithdal at the elf's first touch?

Estel knew that he had done something stupid. Something unforgivable. How could he not have noticed that it was not Legolas?! He did not deserve any pity.

Aragorn retreated so deep into his own thoughts that he never noticed the return of Legolas to his beside. Only when the elf laid his slender hand on his brow to feel his temperature did he become aware of his presence. Without conscious action, Aragorn jerked his head away and his eyes snapped open. For a tiny moment he imagined Legolas to be Lithdal, and the fear and abhorrence he felt towards Lithdal was reflected in his eyes.

Hurt flickered briefly across Legolas's youthful face, but it was quickly replaced by understanding and realization. "Shh, Estel, calm down. It is only me, Legolas. You are safe now." Legolas sat down on the edge of the bed. He took a cloth, wetted it in a bowl of water that stood on the nightstand, pressed out the excess water and then placed it on Aragorn's still feverish brow. A smile tugged at the corners of Legolas's mouth and he clasped Aragorn's sweaty hand in his. "I was so afraid, Estel."

Unable to hold the gaze of Legolas's piercing blue eyes, Aragorn looked down at the blanket. He could not face Legolas, too much had happened and he felt…soiled…somehow. Unworthy of Legolas's attention.

"How long have I been asleep?" He finally asked, his voice scratchy.

"Too long, Estel. It have been almost seven days now."

"Seven days?" Aragorn asked with shock. He knew that the wound he had received was serious, but seven days was a very long time. Very few men woke up after having been unconscious for so long.

"Aye, Estel. I feared you would not wake at all." There was pain in Legolas's voice, causing Aragorn to glance briefly at him. To his surprise, there were unshed tears in the elf's eyes. "I was so afraid, Estel. There was so much blood…" Legolas's voice broke, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Aragorn pondered this for a moment. When he first woke, he had been too tired and upset to ask any questions. And while he still felt extremely tired, he desperately wanted some answers.

"How bad is my wound, Legolas? Why have I been unconscious for such a long time?" He asked timidly, almost afraid to hear the answer. So far, he had not tried to stand or even walk. What if the injury had caused permanent damage to his legs by severing a muscle or sinew?

Having regained his composure, Legolas answered, "The wound was very deep and bled a lot. When we found you, you had lost a lot of blood and had gone into shock. Had we found you sooner, the healers could have prevented you from slipping away so deep, but we came too late. The blood loss and shock caused your body to stop functioning properly. That is why it took you so long to wake up."

Aragorn absorbed this information, and while he now had the answer to that question, the answer brought new questions, as well. "Who found me?" Aragorn hoped that it had not been Legolas, oh please, not Legolas….

"I found you." Legolas said, squeezing his hand. Before Aragorn could reply anything, Legolas continued, "When I woke up and realized that something was amiss, that Lithdal had been in my room, I just knew that he would go to you. I tried to get to your room as quickly as possible, but…" Legolas's voice broke and he had to clear his voice before he was able to continue. "I met my father in the corridor, and he alerted the guards. Merenor and Silien heard his call and came as well. Together we broke down the door to your room and then I saw Lithdal on the floor and I…I panicked and then we found you and…." Legolas stopped and took a deep breath. "I'm so glad you woke up, Estel."

Aragorn was not sure what he should think, but the thought that Legolas and the King had been there when he had been found was terrible. What would the King now think of him? Surely he would think him to be a weak and pathetic human child! That was not the way Aragorn wanted Legolas's father to think of him. Even if it was probably true…

As if his thoughts reflected on his face, Aragorn felt Legolas squeeze his hand more tightly. "Are you alright, Estel? Do you need something?"

Shaking his head, Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment. Tiredness was creeping upon him again, and he knew that he would fall asleep soon. But there was one more question that he needed answered, before he could do that. With a small voice, barely audible, he questioned. "And what about Lithdal? Is he…dead?" He did not manage to keep the slight undertone of hope out of his voice. With Lithdal dead, everything would end there and then.

It twisted Legolas's heart in his chest to tell his friend the truth, knowing how much it would hurt the already weak human, "No, he is not dead. He was brought to a cell in the dungeons, where we will keep him for the time being."

Aragorn's face paled a little, but he said nothing. He simply nodded his head, then turned onto his side, facing away from Legolas. He was asleep in mere moments. Legolas sat by his side, holding his hand, and feeling that something had changed between them, but unsure what it was. Or how to fix it.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

(A few days later in Imladris)

Elrond was sitting in the library, a heavy old tome resting on his legs and his fingers holding the book steady in his lap. It was a very old book, and it had been in his possession for hundreds of years. The pages were yellow with age and well worn, for the elven Lord had read the book many more times than he could count. He was just to turn another page, when there was a soft knock at the door. A servant entered, carrying a small leather tube.

"Lord Elrond, a messenger falcon arrived from Mirkwood this morning." He handed over the leather tube, bowed his head and left the room. Elrond carefully replaced the heavy book on the shelf, before he turned his attention to the leather tube. While he broke the seal and opened the small tube, he wondered why Estel or anyone else from Mirkwood would send a message, risking the bird in the process. While the last winter storm had hit Rivendell almost a month ago and the weather was freezing but fine, the same could not be said about the weather in other parts of Arda, especially in the Misty Mountains.

While Elrond removed the parchment from the leather tube, a frown appeared on his face. Indeed, why would someone send a letter from Mirkwood? He opened the letter and his heart beat faster as he recognized the neat handwriting. Why would Legolas write to him and not his son? His eyes quickly scanned the letter and his face went pale. When he reached the last line, his hands shook so hard that he almost tore the letter. For a moment, Elrond sat motionless in the chair, too agitated to do anything more than stare at the letter in his hands. Thousands of thoughts raced through his mind. How could Lithdal have found them? Why had the guards in Mirkwood not stopped him? What about Estel? How seriously was he injured? And even more horribly, was his son still alive? After all, it had taken _days_ for the messenger falcon to reach Imladris, so much could have happened in that time.

Fear and anger mixed in Elrond's heart, and for a moment all he wanted to do was saddle his horse and ride to Mirkwood. But one look out of the window was enough to dismiss this wish. It was in the middle of winter and not even an elf could make the dangerous journey over the mountains. The only way would be through the gap of Rohan, but that journey was full of dangers, too. And it would take way too long to reach Mirkwood that way. No, the only thing he could do was wait for another message, and then cross the mountains in spring. Elrond fisted his hand around the letter…spring was weeks away yet…

Suddenly, the door to the library was thrown open and the twins rushed in. It was Elladan who spoke first, his face a mixture of surprise and excitement, "Ada, we heard that a message from Mirkwood arrived this morning."

Slowly, Elrond turned his head to look at his sons. When the twins saw the grave expression on his face, they immediately sobered, "Ada, what is it? What happened?"

"Come here, my sons." Elrond said and held out the letter. "Read for yourself."

The twins read the letter, and when they finished, both of them had paled. "But…but how?"Elrohir finally exclaimed, his voice shaking. "I mean…there are guards all over the Palace, and Legolas would protect him, and…." His voice faltered and he looked at his father and brother in turn, his eyes expressing his helplessness.

"I don't know, my son." Elrond said and got to his feet. "And from what I can tell from reading the letter, Legolas does not know either. All we can do now is wait." He wiped a hand across his face, looking deeply worried.

"Wait?" Elladan's eyes snapped to his father's. "We cannot just wait and see, ada." He began to pace the room agitatedly, the letter clenched in his fist. "Estel is hurt and no one protected him! We don't even know if he is still alive!" Elladan reached a table and slammed his fist against the wood, making the whole table wobble dangerously. "I won't wait here while my little brother fights death! I am going to Mirkwood."

Elrohir exchanged a quick look with his father and saw his own emotions reflected in his eyes. They both knew that going to Mirkwood was no option, no matter how much they both wanted to do just that. Grimacing in shared pain, Elrohir made his way towards his brother, "Elladan, I want to go to Mirkwood as badly as you. But we cannot."

"Who says we cannot?" Elladan burst out, his eyes flickering towards his father, daring him to speak.

"Brother, I hurt as much as you do. And believe me, all I want to do right now is journey to Mirkwood and bring our little brother home." Elrohir said beseechingly. "But Elladan, it is winter and we cannot make the journey now. If we go now, either the cold or the snow will kill us, and you know that." Elrohir made another step towards his brother, afraid to upset him even more.

"But, I cannot just sit still and do nothing." There were unshed tears in Elladan's eyes, and he looked at the floor to hide them.

"I fear that is all we can do." Elrohir said, and having finally reached his brother's side, he drew him into a hug. Holding his trembling brother against his chest, Elrohir soothingly rubbed his back.

"I should have gone with him, Elrohir." Elladan said, his voice muffled by his twin's tunic. "He should never have gone alone."

"But he was not alone, brother." Tears gathered in Elrohir's eyes, and he let them fall freely. "Legoas was with him. And if I know one thing about Legolas, then that he loves our brother dearly. He would rather die than let something happen to Estel."

Sniffing, Elladan broke free from his brother's hold. Where there had been tears before, now only steely determination showed, "But Estel _is_ hurt, and Legolas was apparently not able to stop it."

"We don't know the whole story yet, my sons." Elrond interjected, still looking pale, but focused now.

Elladan looked at the letter in his hand, and then towards his brother and father, "As soon as the snow melts, I will go to Mirkwood. And I hope Legolas has some good answers for me."

"For us." Elrohir said, locking his gaze with his brother's. "For I will go, too."

"As will I." Elrond said, surprising his sons. "I want to see my youngest son. And I want some answers, too."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

The days passed slowly in Mirkwood. The healers ordered Aragorn a strict bed rest due to his injury and the blood loss, and Aragorn obeyed, either sleeping or dozing. At night, the healers would give him some sleeping tea, so that his sleep was uninterrupted, and Aragorn took those teas gratefully. He knew not whether he would be plagued by nightmares, but he had no intention to find out. The horrible things he saw when he closed his eyes at day were enough to let him fear the things he would see at night, when all lights had gone out.

Legolas never left his side for long, and when he was not there, a healer sat with him. Once a day, Silien would pay him a visit, bringing him books or something to eat, the King came regularly to ask him how he felt and once or twice even Merenor came to see him. Aragorn would talk little, pretending to be asleep or too tired for a conversation, and his visitors went along with it. They never stayed long, saying few unimportant things, before they left him alone again. It was just like Aragorn wanted it to be.

He did not want to talk about what had happened, he wanted to forget it instead of being reminded of it day by day. And he did not want their pity; in fact, he thought that he did not deserve it. It had been him who had not locked his door, who had let Lithdal inside, who had let himself be blindfolded, touched, kissed and...no…he did not deserve their pity.

Ah, sometimes Aragorn wished that he could leave the bed, just to walk away from all the stares and the whispered conversations, and the secret looks that his visitors shared when they thought he would not see it. He hated it. He wanted to go somewhere where no one found him, where he could be alone with his thoughts and feelings. Just for an hour, a moment of peace and quiet. But it was not to be, for his injury was serious and his recovery slow. It would be days ere he was allowed to even leave the bed, and surely weeks before he was allowed to leave the healing wing.

The fact that Legolas almost never left his side did nothing to help Aragorn in his current state of mind. While the elf never said a bad word to him and did not press him for answers concerning _that_ night, Aragorn just knew that Legolas wanted to know what had transpired as badly as everyone else. Of course they wanted to know what had happened in his room, but he was not ready to tell them. Especially not Legolas.

While a part of Aragorn wanted Legolas to leave, another part wanted him to stay. He loved Legolas with all his heart, and the presence of his friend and lover by his side reassured him that he was not alone. With the days passing, Aragorn felt more and more ashamed of himself. After all, was Legolas not only staying with him, because he had not the courage to tell the elf what had really happened between him and Lithdal? If Legolas knew the whole story, Aragorn was sure, Legolas would leave him. How could Legolas ever forgive him what he had done?

He was selfish by not telling Legolas, Aragorn knew. But the small part that wanted Legolas to stay, did not care in the slightest.

It was almost a week now after Aragorn had awoken. It was late in the afternoon, and Aragorn knew that healers would soon come to give him his sleeping tea. Aragorn hoped that they would come soon, for the day had been worse than the last few. His wound ached horribly, and he felt slightly dizzy and sick to the stomach. Silien and Merenor had visited him, and Legolas had not left his side since breakfast. Aragorn was tired and in pain, and the constant task of avoiding questions and stares, and the fear that _the question_ could fall any moment was taking its toll in him. He wanted nothing more than to sleep right now.

He lay on his side, facing away from Legolas who was reading a book, when there was a knock on the door. Knowing that Aragorn would ignore it, Legolas bade to enter, and a moment later, the King entered the room. He looked tired and worn, and there was a hard edge around his mouth. The King closed the door behind him and came over to stand beside his son. He looked at Aragorn who had not even turned around to acknowledge his visitor, and then exchanged a worried look with his son. Legolas shrugged his shoulders helplessly, his eyes showing his deep concern for his lethargic friend.

Clearing his throat, the King sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle Aragorn. "Estel, are you awake?" His voice was soft and full of true concern. Aragorn nodded, but did not turn around. In principle this was a grave insult to the King, but Thranduil did not mind, and Aragorn was just too hurt and too tired to care.

"Good. There is something I must tell you." The King said, staring at Aragorn's back for a moment before he exchanged another look with Legolas. From his father's expression, Legolas knew that whatever it was his father had come to tell them, it was not good.

"I was just informed," the King began, his voice steady but his words coming a bit reluctantly, "that the prisoner has made a formal request of being released from the dungeons. He says there is no evidence of him having committed a crime. He wants to be set free immediately."

Shock tore through Legolas, and he stared at his father with wide eyes. This could not be true, it was preposterous! Legolas said as much, albeit with slightly less civic words. His father nodded gravely and wiped a hand over his face, "I fear it is true, ion nin. He has been in this cell for almost two weeks now, with no specific accusations being made against him."

Legolas got up from his chair and paced the room in anger, "But he nearly killed me, ada!"

"Can you prove that it was him?" His father asked in a calm tone, but his eyes were showing his anger at Lithdal.

"It was him, no one else would want to hurt me." Legolas grabbed an empty cup from the nightstand and twirled it absently in his hands. "I did not see him but it was him, we all know that."

"Yes, we do, but we have no proof, Legolas." Thranduil gazed at his son, his look conveying his anger at him being hurt, and his anger at Lithdal for wanting to be set free. "And we don't yet know what further happened that night." The King turned his head and looked at Aragorn's back.

While they spoke, Aragorn did not move, but both elves could see the slight trembling that set in and the slumped shoulders. Father and son exchanged a quick look, and then the King placed his hand gently on Aragorn's back. The young man stiffened, but did not jerk away.

"Estel, you heard what I just said?" The King queried with a soft voice, not wanting to startle the young human. A nod was his only answer. Encouraged by this, the King continued, "Estel, I know that this is very hard for you, and under any other circumstances I would not press you now. But Estel…we need to know what happened between you and Lithdal. Can you tell us?"

Both, father and son, held their breaths. This was it. The question that everyone in the Palace wanted to be answered had been asked. For a long moment, Aragorn neither said anything nor moved, but then he nodded timidly. His voice was barely above a whisper when he answered, "I don't want him to be set free." Both elves heard how difficult it was for the young man to utter this sentence, to show this weakness and vulnerability.

Legolas and Thranduil breathed a sigh of relief and Thranduil could not help but smile, "Neither do we, Estel, and we will do what we can to keep him locked up. But, you understand that, although I am the King, I have to abide by the law, don't you?"

Aragorn nodded again, but did not turn around. When he next spoke, his voice was still very soft, but concern swung in it, too, "He nearly killed Legolas? I did not know that."

"He entered my room and hit me over the head with a water jug." Legolas explained while he sat down again. "But I am fine, nothing to worry about."

"Good." Aragorn said, and the trembling in his body lessened somewhat. Legolas knew not if that was a good sign, but he was willing to believe so.

"Estel, are you ready to tell us what happened?" The King asked hesitantly, not sure whether it was good to push the young man, but knowing that it had to be done.

Aragorn took a deep breath, and then nodded, "Aye."

To be continued.


	11. Learning the truth

**Here it is, the new chapter. Thank you all for the reviews, they make my day!**

Chapter 11: Learning the truth

"(…)

"_Estel, are you ready to tell us what happened?" The King asked hesitantly, not sure whether it was good to push the young man, but knowing that it had to be done._

_Aragorn took a deep breath, and then nodded, "Aye." _"

Without conscious thought, Legolas skidded to the edge of the chair and grabbed its arms tightly. Part of him wanted desperately to hear what Aragorn had to say, but a much bigger part of him was afraid. What had Lithdal done to Estel? His skin began to tingle and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself.

Aragorn, on the other hand, suddenly became very calm and composed, although his tense shoulders told of his inner turmoil. Without turning around, he began to recount the evening of Winter Solstice. He summed up how he had said goodnight to Legolas and gone to bed. He related how he woke up in the middle of the night, only to realize that someone was in the room with him. Here Aragorn stopped, obviously unsure how to continue. How should he explain why he had not called the guards immediately? That he had thought it was his lover with him in bed? It was Legolas, perceptive as ever of his friend's thoughts, who helped him continue, "Estel, ada knows about us. I told him."

Nodding slightly, Aragorn merely continued with his story, giving no comment to Legolas's remark. In a detached and emotionless voice he summed the whole night up in but a few sentences. He said more with his silence, than he ever could have with words. Shaking his head, Aragorn finished his tale, "I don't know why I didn't realize that it was Lithdal and not you, Legolas." His voice hitched in his throat, the guilt he felt clearly audible, "I think about it day and night, but I cannot find the answer." Neither the King nor Legolas needed to see Aragorn's face to know that the young man was crying silently. "I am so, so very sorry Legolas."

Aragorn wiped his face and the simple gesture nearly broke Legolas's heart. Aragorn was blaming himself for what had happened! Stunned and shocked, Legolas quickly got out of his chair and made his way around the bed. Kneeling on the floor so that he was level with Aragorn's face, he took his friend's hands in his own. "Estel! Oh my dear Estel. You could not have known that it was Lithdal! Don't blame yourself, Estel. You did nothing wrong."

Instead of accepting Legolas's words, Aragorn closed his eyes and shook his head. "But I did not sense that it was him, Legolas. I should have! I love you Legolas. What does it say about me that I could not distinguishhim from you?"

Squeezing Aragorn's hand tighter, Legolas tried to reason with his friend, "It only shows that Lithdal was far more cunning than we thought him to be. It says nothing about you, Estel."

"But…I…" Aragorn shook his head in disgust at himself. "I nearly allowed him to…." His voice broke once more, and fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. "You must hate me, Legolas.", he whispered brokenly.

Legolas felt a rage bubbling inside of him. Never before had he felt the urge to kill somebody with his bare hands, but now he wanted nothing more than to go down to the dungeons and strangle Lithdal. How could he have done that to Estel! In one single night he had turned the brave, strong young Estel into a distressed, vulnerable young man. The young man's tale was horrible, and Legolas wished he could make all the dark memories go away, that he could take the burden that Aragorn now carried and take it onto his own shoulders. And he felt helpless. How could he convince Aragorn that what had happened was not his fault?

Legolas leaned closer to Aragorn and his voice was gentle when he spoke, "I could never hate you, Estel. I love you too much." His fingers stroked Aragorn's, and the young man squeezed slightly back. Taking this as a good sign, Legolas continued, "You are a very good person, Estel. True, and honest and brave. You did nothing wrong. Bad things happened to you, but that is not your fault. You could have done nothing to prevent those things from happening, so please, Estel, don't blame yourself. If you want to place blame, than blame me." Legolas took a deep breath. He more sensed than saw his father's probing look, but he continued anyway. All he wanted to do was to make Aragorn feel better, and he also felt the urge to finally tell his friend the truth about what had happened on their journey to Mirkwood. Maybe, when Aragorn learned that Lithdal had been following them from Rivendell, that the elf had been close for months and probably had been planning his attack for weeks, Aragorn would understand that there had indeed been nothing he could have done to prevent those horrible things from happening.

"There are some things I must tell you, Estel. Things I should have told you long ago." With but a few words Legolas explained that it had not been him who had rescued Aragorn from the orcs, and that they had found signs that it had been another elf. He told Aragorn about the night he found out that it must have been Lithdal, and about the measures he had taken to ensure that the maniac elf could not get near the human during their trip to the outpost. Legolas also told him of the reports about stolen food and clothing, concluding that he had only afterwards, when it had been too late, realized that Lithdal must have found a way into the Palace and been responsible for the thefts.

While he explained all this to Aragorn, the young man slowly opened his eyes and stared at his friend. Disbelief and hurt flickered through the grey orbs, and Legolas tightened his grip on the cold fingers.

"Estel, please believe me when I say that I am sorry, so sorry. Maybe I should have told you all this long before now, but I was afraid that you would feel unsafe in Mirkwood. And we were not sure that it was really Lithdal, we did not…"

Suddenly, Aragorn withdrew his hands and lifted himself up on his elbow. He winced at the movement, but his eyes never left Legolas's face. His voice was rough when he spoke, hurt and disbelieve coloring his words, "You _knew_ that he followed us from Imladris?"

"We assumed it, yes." Legolas could feel the quick rhythm of his heartbeat, and something cold plunged into his stomach. The loss of skin contact with Aragorn unsettled him.

"You assumed it." Aragorn repeated, and his voice became stronger. "Why did you not tell me? Why did you lie to me?" His eyes were accusing now, and Legolas felt himself paling.

"We were not sure, Estel. And you were so weak and vulnerable after the orc attack. We did not want to upset you." Even when he spoke the words, Legolas knew that it was a lame excuse, although it was the truth.

Aragorn grimaced and shook his head, "Yes, why tell me something so important as that Lithdal was following us." His voice dropped with sarcasm. "I mean, it is not as if Lithdal had tried to kill me before, or tried to do…other things." Aragorn was now sitting up in bed, his face flushed. He stared at Legolas, and numerous emotions swirled through his eyes.

"Estel please, you have to believe me. I did not tell you because I wanted to protect you." Legolas scooted closer, his eyes pleading, "Estel, you don't really believe that I would have willingly let Lithdal touch you again? Not after all we have been through?"

For a moment, the anger remained in Aragorn's eyes, but then he sighed and lowered his head. "No, of course not." He shook his head and his shoulders slumped, "I know you would do everything you could to protect me, Legolas."

A sigh of relieve floated from Legolas's lips, and he reached out and took one of Aragorn's hands in his own. "I love you, Estel, never forget that. I would never hurt you."

Aragorn nodded, but he said nothing. A little disappointed that Aragorn did not repeat the endearment, Legolas glanced at his father. The King minutely lifted his shoulder, as if he wanted to say that Aragorn maybe needed time to come to terms with what he had been told.

"What will happen now?" Aragorn asked, his voice a bit shaky. He glanced from Legolas to the King.

Thranduil sighed but nodded grimly, "Lithdal will not leave the dungeons, that much is certain."

Aragorn nodded, but he still looked worried, "And then?"

The King shot a quick look at his son before he answered, "Then there will be a trial."

The young man nodded once more, as if he had expected that answer, "Will I have to attend the trial? As the victim?"

"Only if you want to, Estel." Legolas said, tightening his hold on his friend. "I will testify at the trial against Lithdal. I will relate the things you told us today. That should be enough to convince everybody that Lithdal is guilty."

It was obvious that the King had doubts about this, but he kept quiet. He knew that the other members of the Mirkwood Court preferred the testimony of the victim above hearsay. Especially if the one relating the story was a close friend -or even the lover - of the victim. But at the moment, he did not voice his thoughts. He could tell that the young man was hurting, from more than only his physical wound, and he deemed that they could discuss this later, when the man was well again.

"And what is the sentence Lithdal could get?" Aragorn now asked, his gaze directed at the King.

"Lithdal tried to kill the Crown prince, which is treason, a very serious crime. And what he did to you, Estel, is beyond comprehension. Such crimes are usually not committed by elves, and I have the strongest confidence that Lithdal will get the sentence he deserves. The most serious sentence there is. Lithdal will be either exiled from all the elvish realms, or escorted to the Grey Havens so that he can sail to the Undying Lands."

When the King and Legolas had thought that this would reassure Aragorn, they were mistaken. Instead of being glad that Lithdal would face those sentences, Aragorn shook his head in obvious disappointment.

"Estel? What is it?" Legolas asked worriedly. He exchanged a look with his father, but the King only raised his eyebrows in confusion. The sentences that awaited Lithdal were the worst an elf could face. To be exiled from other elves meant to be alone for eternity; it was not something elves survived for long. They rather faded from grief than to live all the ages of the world in loneliness.

"What it is, Legolas?" Aragorn looked at his friend in confusion. When he realized that Legolas did truly not understand his misery, he explained. "When Lithdal is exiled, he will be free to go wherever he wishes to, and no one will be able to trace his steps and control his actions. When he is exiled, what do you think he will do, Legolas?"

Shock tore through the Prince and he gasped. "He would hunt you down. Lithdal would follow your every step, waiting for another chance to attack you."

Aragorn nodded grimly, "He would never stop hunting me. And I have no doubt that he would eventually be successful. I cannot return to the rangers – let alone serve them- when Lithdal could attack me, and them, in the process, any moment. It would be too dangerous. I would have to stay in Imladris or Mirkwood or Lothlorien for the rest of my days, or face him." Aragorn shook his head, "You know me too well to think that I would stay in the elvish realms, Legolas. One day, I would face Lithdal again."

Legolas shrugged, "And when you do, in an honest and fair fight, you would beat him."

Locking his eyes with Legolas, Aragorn shook his head sadly, "I would kill an elf, Legolas, and that is something I could never do. I could never kill one of the Firstborn, no matter who he is, or what he has done. That would not be right, and against The One's will."

Speechless, Legolas realized that Aragorn had spoken from the heart, and that his friend would never kill Lithdal, no matter what. During his childhood years in Imladris Aragorn had learned that life was sacred, and that especially the life of the Firstborn was something to be cherished and protected. After all, elves were not meant to die.

Feeling absolutely helpless, Legolas glanced at his father for help. The King straightened his back, "Then Lithdal will be send to the havens."

"And then?" Aragorn asked quietly. "He will sail and set foot on the White Shores. But will he ever heal? He is not ill from poison, or wounded in battle. Not even the Undying Lands can heal what is not ill. He will not change there, but wait for Legolas to sail. And when Legolas reaches the White Shores, he will find no peace there, but an enemy who is after his blood." Aragorn glanced at their combined hands and said softly, "I don't want you to have to face that, Legolas. The Undying Lands shall ever be a hope for you, something to look forward to."

Where Legolas's heart had nearly broken before, it now shattered into tiny thousand pieces. Aragorn was willing to sacrifice his peace and life for Legolas's happiness. Tears filled his eyes and slowly rolled down his cheeks. After all he had done and not done, he did not deserve a friend as Aragorn. He was not worth it, he thought ashamedly. He thought and thought, but he couldn't come up with an alternative to their dilemma. There was nothing he could think of that would help Estel. Finally, Legolas simply got up and enclosed Aragorn in a hug. "We will think of something, Estel, this I promise you."

Aragorn turned his head into Legolas's shoulder and nodded weakly. "I know you will, Legolas." He said softly, his voice showing his exhaustion. Soon, Legolas placed his friend back on the mattress, and it took Aragorn, tired as he was, only a few minutes to fall asleep. King and Prince sat for a very long time at his bedside, pondering what lay ahead.

Many hours later, Thranduil made his way down to the dungeons to tell Lithdal that he would not be released.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next days weren't easy for Aragorn. The wound he had received troubled him, and he still felt weak and tired. His appetite had yet to return, and this added to the worry of the healers. They forced potions and teas down his throat, prodded and tested him, and on more than one occasion they tried to turn the matter of their conversation away from his injuries and towards the night he had received them. Aragorn knew that the whole Palace was curious, and that rumors had spread about what had happened to him. Legolas told him that none of the rumors were even close to the truth, but the young man was worried.

What would happen if the truth was revealed? How would the elves of Mirkwood react? Numerous elves had only accepted his presence because he was a guest of the Prince. What would they do if they learned what had transpired between him and Lithdal?

Those worries, the constant pain he was in, the tiredness and the memories of what had happened to him, caused Aragorn to draw into himself more and more. He did not want to show his pain, nor did he want others to see how much he was affected by it all. Whenever a visitor asked how he fared, he said that he was doing well, but his eyes betrayed his words. Everyone who looked at him saw that he was not doing well at all.

During the day, when the healers bustled about the room and he had to hold up for the visitors and Legolas, Aragorn almost succeeded in holding back the horrors of _that_ night. But his thoughts were never far from that dark day, and when he was alone and especially at night, when all was dark, nightmares haunted him. Even though the healers gave him sleeping potions every day, he usually woke up in the middle of the night, sweaty and breathing heavily. The pictures of his assault tormented him every waking moment and even in his sleep. The healers saw that he slept badly and, thinking that it was the pain from the wound, raised the dose of the sleeping potion they gave him. And while this helped him for a day or two, on the third night the nightmares came back with a vengeance, letting him wake up with a scream on his lips.

Helplessly, Legolas had to watch how his young friend got thinner and paler by the day. Dark shadows lay under his eyes, and he seemed absent and his mind far away whenever Legolas visited. And when Aragorn thought that Legolas was not watching, a dark shadow hushed over his face, leaving his eyes deeply troubled. It was obvious that it was not only his physical wound that was troubling him.

In an attempt to lighten Aragorn's spirits, Legolas talked him into sending a letter to his family, to let them know that he was doing better. At first, Aragorn did not want to write a letter, saying that he did not know what to say, but after a lot of encouragement from Legolas, he finally asked for the quill and paper and wrote a short letter. When Legolas folded the paper and sealed it, he could not help but glance briefly at the context. To his surprise, the sentences were short, and the letter almost bare of emotions. Not one word about how Aragorn felt, or how he missed his family. Had he not known better, Legolas would have thought the letter to be a report of the healers about Aragorn's health. That night, Legolas wrote his own letter to Elrond and the twins, reassuring them that the wound was healing nicely, and they would do all they could to help the young man recover. But he also wrote about the things that Aragorn had left out; about his lack of enthusiasm for anything, his non-existent appetite, the darkness in his eyes and his problems with sleeping. He sent both letters first thing in the morning, hoping that the falcons would cross the Misty Mountains safely.

Aside from Aragorn's more physical ailments, Legolas was also worried by his friend's behavior. Legolas had thought that Aragorn would open up to him, now that he had told them what had truly happened. He had even embraced him that day, laying his head on his shoulder. But Legolas had been disappointed. Slowly, Aragorn returned to his habit of shunning all body contact. He winced every time a healer touched him, and although he tried to hide it, even when Legolas did. It almost was as if Aragorn knew that he was behaving foolishly, but could not help himself.

He never initiated any contact, not even with Legolas, and he shied away whenever someone came even close to him. Only the day before, Legolas had reached out to caress his cheek, and Aragorn had instinctively turned his head so that Legolas's fingers only found air. Aragorn had shot Legolas a brief glance so as if to apologize, but he had said nothing. And even more so, he had not tried to touch Legolas in return.

Legolas hated Lithdal for what the elf had done to his friend. Aragorn had never been someone to shun contact with his family and friends. He was a young man who enjoyed embracing friends and family, who smiled readily and poured his heart out towards the people he trusted. It was as if Lithdal had reduced Aragorn to a caged animal; always afraid, always alert and distrusting. It hurt Legolas to see his friend and lover thus. And if he was completely honest with himself, it hurt his heart that Aragorn would not even open up to him. They were more than mere friends, they were lovers. Should Aragorn not at least trust _him_ enough to seek his comfort?

Troubled and hurting, Legolas vowed that he would give his friend time to heal. Maybe, if he did as Aragorn silently asked, and stopped to initiate touches and the small gestures that they had always shared, maybe then Aragorn would be able to begin to heal. He would not push him, and do nothing that the young man so obviously did not want to do. Legolas knew that it would be hard on him, but if this was what Aragorn wanted, than he would do it. He would do anything to help Aragorn heal from this ordeal. He only hoped that Aragorn would not shun him forever.

Over the next few days, Aragorn felt a difference in Legolas's behavior towards him. The elf would still visit every day and keep him company, but he would not touch him. Where before Legolas had taken his hand in his, or stroked his hair out of his face, he would now sit in his chair and simply talk to him. Not once did the elf initiate a skin contact, although it was obviously difficult for him.

At first, Aragorn was not sure what to make of it, but then he was simply glad about it. Although he did not want to, every time someone touched him, he was reminded of Lithdal's touch, and a cold fear spiked through his whole body. He could not explain it, but he just did not want to be touched…by anyone. He could see in Legolas's eyes that this was hurting his friend, but he knew not what he could do about it. His body reacted that way, if he wanted or not. Maybe with time, he would be able to forget what had happened to him, and things would return to how they were before. For the time being, Aragorn was simply glad that he did not have to hide his discomfort at bodily contact any longer.

After another week, the healers declared that Aragorn was strong enough to leave the bed. With the help of two healers, Aragorn left his bed for the first time after the attack. He immediately felt dizzy upon standing upright, and had it not been for the healers who held his arms, he would have tumbled to the ground. He managed to walk around his room, before his knees started to shake and the healers brought him back to his bed. From then on, the healers would help him out of bed every day so that he could strengthen his muscles, and after another week he was able to walk unaided again.

Encouraged by this, the master healer suggested that Aragorn return to his own rooms. Surely, he would heal better there than in the healing wing. To the master healer's surprise, Aragorn shook his head vehemently and declared that he would not go back there again. The matter was discussed with Legolas and the King, and after a bit of thinking they decided that Aragorn would be moved to a smaller room that was situated beside Legolas's room. Normally the room was used as an antechamber to the Prince's room, but after a day of hard work, it looked like a guest chamber, complete with bed, table and wardrobe. Aragorn agreed to move there, and so he finally left the healing rooms behind.

But the change of rooms did not change his behavior towards Legolas or others. With every day that passed, he retreated more into himself. There were days that he would barely speak, and neither Legolas nor the healers knew how to help him. It deeply hurt Legolas that Aragorn would not seek his touch, and that the young man obviously felt uncomfortable in his presence. What had he done wrong to deserve this, Legolas asked himself numerous times, and the only answer he found was that Aragorn still blamed him for not telling him about his suspicions about Lithdal sooner.

After another week, Legolas could no longer stand it. His visits became short and shorter, and when there was a pause in their conversation, Legolas no longer had the energy to fill it with words. He was tired, he was hurting, and he felt as lonely as he had never before. He wanted his friend and lover back, but he was beginning to think that things would never be as they were before.

Late one evening, Legolas returned to his own room after he had sat with Aragorn. The young man had barely acknowledged his presence. He had only nodded or answered with monosyllabic answers to his questions. Legolas had this time really made an effort to get through to his friend, he had smiled and talked and sought eye-contact. But Aragorn had ignored him, had not once smiled or held his gaze for more than a few seconds. Frustrated and unhappy, Legolas threw himself onto his bed.

What else could he do to help his friend? What did Aragorn want him to do? Why was his friend not talking to him?

In heartache, Legolas hugged his pillow to his chest and closed his eyes. For weeks he had tried to be strong, to be there for his friend. But right now, it was all too much. With a strangled intake of breath, Legolas drew his legs towards his chest and rolled to the side. Tears gathered in his eyes and he let them fall. He cried for a long while, letting his emotions roll through his body. He felt so lonely…

Caught in his misery, Legolas did not hear the soft knock at his door, and neither did he notice that the door opened. The elf stood in the doorway for a moment, a tray of food in his hands. He seemed to debate whether to enter or not. But then, he placed the tray on a small table near the wall, closed the door and made his way over to the bed. He cleared his throat to alert Legolas to his presence, and as he had suspected the Prince startled and sat up quickly, wiping his eyes.

"Merenor! What are you doing here?"

"You did not show up for dinner and the cooks told me you had not eaten anything for lunch too. So I thought I would bring you something." He gestured at the tray, his face apologetic. "I did not want to intrude, Legolas." He glanced to the door and then back at Legolas, "Maybe I should go." He started towards the door, but Legolas's soft voice held him back, "Don't leave, please."

Merenor went over to the bed and sat down on the mattress. He gazed at Legolas's face, taking in the dark shadows under his eyes and the hollowed out cheeks, "When was the last time you ate, Legolas?"

"Breakfast, I guess." Legolas shrugged and wiped his eyes again. "I don't know." To his surprise, knowing that Merenor had found him crying on his bed, curled up like a small child, did not embarrass him. He had known Merenor for many, many years, and the other elf had found him in more embarrassing situations. And truly, Legolas was too tired to feel embarrassed.

"I see." Was all Merenor said, but he did not get up to get the tray with the food. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on Legolas's knee. "How do you feel, Legolas? How are you holding up?"

Now Legolas _was_ surprised. No one had asked him how he felt in the last weeks, it had always been him asking Aragorn how he was feeling. He thought about the question for a moment, then shrugged, "I'm fine."

"Legolas." Merenor chided gently, "Don't lie to me, my friend."

Sighing, Legolas tugged a strand of blond hair behind his ear and stared at the bedcovers. He was so tired, he simply had not the energy to lie anymore, "I feel so alone, Merenor." He confessed. "He barely acknowledges my presence, let alone talk to me. I mean, he speaks with me, but he does not really _talk_ to me. Do you know what I mean?" Bright blue eyes looked up at Merenor, pleading for understanding.

"Yes, I know what you mean, Legolas. I have seen it." Merenor gave Legolas a small smile, "Give him time, my friend."

"But how long? It has been weeks now, and it only gets worse. I don't know what I can do to help him. I…I am so afraid of losing him, Merenor."

Fresh tears gathered in Legolas's eyes, and he wiped them away. Suddenly, his hand was caught in Merenor's and a slender finger forced his chin up. When their eyes met, Merenor said gently, "You will not lose him, Legolas. He is just going through a difficult time, as are you. You will see, in a few weeks, things will be as they were between you and him. Have hope, Legolas."

Their gazes held for a moment, and Legolas wanted so badly to believe Merenor. Maybe his friend was right, and with time Aragorn would change back to normal. Taking a deep breath, Legolas nodded his head, "You are right, Merenor. Thank you."

Smiling, Merenor nodded his head, "Now, you have to eat, Legolas, and I won't accept a no." The elf went and fetched the tray. Slowly, Legolas ate the soup and bread, only now realizing how hungry he was. Merenor talked quietly about this and that and nothing important at all, and the tray was barely empty when Legolas yawned hugely. Shaking his head in good humor, Merenor removed the tray and pointed a finger at Legolas, "Now, up to bed with you, Legolas. You look dead on your feet."

Legolas did not protest. He really felt tired…Sliding down on the mattress, Legolas stretched out, sighing in contentment. He fell asleep almost immediately, but not before he felt that Merenor covered him with a blanket and stroked his hair out of his face. That night, Legolas fell asleep with a small smile on his lips, the first smile after weeks of worry.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Days later in Rivendell, a messenger brought Legolas's en Aragorn's letters to Elrond, who read them numerous times. While Legolas's letter worried him, Aragorn's worried him even more so. What Elrond could read between the lines was that his son was not faring well at all. Never before had Elrond found his son to be so closed off, so unemotional about something that had happened to him.

Full of concern, Elrond showed the letters to his sons. While the twins were giddy with relief upon reading that Aragorn had survived, they shared their father's concern for their little brother. Each of them wrote a lengthy letter to Aragorn, as well as letters to Legolas, sending them to Mirkwood the same day. When the first snow melted, they vowed, they would ride to Mirkwood.

To be continued.


	12. Breaking

**Hello! Sorry I kept you all waiting so long. My apologies! I was just so caught up in work and life. Here is the next chapter. Don't say I did not warn you...(hehehehe).**

Chapter 12: Breaking

Aragorn sighed, not for the first time cursing his injury and the pain and discomfort it brought. From the light that fell through the small chute into his room, he could tell that the sun was shining outside. It was probably a wonderful winter day, a day on which the sun sparkled on the snow and reflected from the frozen ponds. It had been almost a week now that Aragorn resided in his private room, and he had not left it once. The healers had made it very clear that he was not to walk around unaided (which he could not, because he was still too weak), and so be was bound to this room.

While Aragorn still wanted to be left alone, to be away from prying eyes and those sympathetic smiles he had come to hate, he felt the urge to be someplace other than his room. This room reminded him too much of his old room, and furthermore he needed some fresh air. He longed to go up to one of the balconies that led outside, and to breathe in the cold winter air. Aragorn would give anything to feel the wind in his air and to just let go. Since he had been a small child, the serenity and peace of nature had always helped him when something troubled him. But here, caught in this room, with the guards just outside and a healer close by, Aragorn felt watched…and trapped. And somehow, the air he breathed tasted dirty and foggy, and so thick that sometimes he meant he would suffocate.

Aragorn let his eyes wander around the room. There were potions and bandages on the nightstand, some extra blankets on the chair close to the bed, jugs of fresh water on the table in case of emergency…maybe the others thought this to be '_his_' room, but to him it looked like just another healing room. If he could just get outside for a while, away from it all, and _think_. Sighing once more, Aragorn glanced down at his chest. He could see the thick bandages through his tunic, and he grimaced. Not only did the wound impede his movement, but it was also a constant reminder of what had happened to him.

Flashes of Lithdal immediately shot through his mind, and Aragorn fisted his hands and closed his eyes tightly. He willed the pictures away, and after a moment he succeeded in pushing them back. A small shudder cursed through his body, and hetook a deep breath. '_It has been weeks now! Stop acting like a child!_' He chastised himself. During the last days, Aragorn had begun to push the thoughts of _that night_ away. Whenever those pictures assaulted him, he said to himself that they only worsened his condition, and that he had to get over it. But oh, it was so difficult…

Only last night, he had woken up from a nightmare, drenched in sweat and almost hyperventilating. Even a higher dose of sleeping potion was not helping against the nightmares. But during the day, Aragorn worked hard to heal. He _wanted_ to get better, he _wanted_ to feel better. But his body was not healed yet, and neither were his mind and heart.

While he lay awake at night, Aragorn thought a lot. He was still feeling immensely guilty that he had not recognized Lithdal, and about how his body had reacted to him. And despite what he had told Legolas, he was man enough to accept that he was feeling a tiny bit angry with Legolas for not telling him that Lithdal had followed them to Mirkwood. Hundreds of scenarios about _the night_ played in his mind; if he had locked the door, would Lithdal then have been able to enter? If he had known Lithdal was close, would he have kept his sword close at hand? If he had known, would he have arranged then that a guard be stationed outside his door? And if he had known, would it have happened at all? Or would Lithdal just have killed the guard, broken open the door, hide the sword and taken what he wanted with brutal force? Aragorn never found an answer to those questions, and as the days passed, he came to the conclusion that it did not matter. Things had happened that could not be turned back, and he had to just live with the consequences.

But although his mind knew all that, his heart was another matter altogether. His trauma, the injury and the forced stay abed made him not only grumpy and frustrated, but mean. Aragorn found himself snapping at healers, grumbling at servants and even being mean to Legolas once in a while, without any real reason. He was not himself, he knew that, and he hated himself. Oh, how he wanted for things to get back to how they were.

Legolas…Aragorn _had_ noticed that his friend was hurt by his behavior. The look on the elf's face when he shied back from his touch…it nearly broke Aragorn's heart. But his touch….the touch of any elf reminded him of Lithdal…the same slender fingers, the light hair…his body reacted before Aragorn could control it. It hurt him to cause Legolas pain. Aragorn also noticed that Legolas's stays became shorter as the days went by, and also more quiet. As if Legolas had given up on cheering him up. Or as if Legolas had given up on him…

Swallowing hard at that thought, Aragorn shook his head. He did not want to lose Legolas! Lithdal would have won if that happened. Maybe Legolas had lied to him about Lithdal, but it had been him who had nearly been bedded by the elf! Legolas did not deserve this, Aragorn knew. Maybe if Aragorn tried more to forget, put more effort in pushing his dark thoughts away…maybe if he managed to just shut his mind off against all that had happened…maybe then he would not lose Legolas.

And the first thing that would help him heal, Aragorn decided, was to finally get out of bed on his own. If he could walk unaided, he would get more freedom. The healers would let him get out of the room, he would be able to get some fresh air, and then things would slowly get back to normal. For, as soon as he was healed and left this room, nothing would permanently remind him of what had happened to him. Maybe he could even forget then…

Pushing the blanket and furs aside, Aragorn slowly sat up and leaned against the headboard of the bed. Immediately, his wound pulled against the stitches that still held it closed, and a sharp pain shot down his legs and up his chest. But by now Aragorn was used to that pain, and he merely gnashed his teeth. Within a few seconds, he maneuvered his body to the edge of the bed and pushed his legs over the mattress. When his bare feet touched the bedside carpet, Aragorn took a deep breath. Until now, he had not once tried to get up on his own; there had always been a healer present to help him.

Determined to get out of bed and to take the first real step of his recovery, Aragorn pushed away from the bed and slowly stood. The room spun before his eyes and his blood rushed in his ears for a moment, but then the feeling of dizziness vanished. The wound hurt and his legs felt wobbly, but Aragorn began to slowly walk around the room anyway. Using chairs and tables as crutches, he managed to walk around the room one whole time, from one side to the other, before his knees started to shake in earnest. Grimacing at his weakness, Aragorn turned and tried to get back to the bed before his strength left him.

He made it half of the way before his knees buckled under him, sending him to the floor with a dull thud. Half-sitting and half lying on the floor, Aragorn slammed his fist against the cold stone in frustration. His heart hammered in his chest and cold sweat stood on his brow; it was obvious that his body was weak, and Aragorn knew he had not even the energy to get back into bed. Hanging his head, he exhaled in frustration and self-loathing. How pathetic he must look…

Suddenly, there was a timid knock at the door and before he could do so much as sit up straight, the door was opened and Silien entered the room. He carried a tray with a bowl of dried fruits and berries, a teacup standing next to it. When Silien saw Aragorn crumbled on the ground, pale and sweaty, his eyes widened and he turned his head, obviously to call for help.

"No, please!" Aragorn reached out his hand to stop the elf, his eyes pleading. He did not want to be found like this, and he certainly did not want the help of another of those healers. And if Legolas heard of this, what would his friend say? If there was one things that Aragorn did not want, then it was to add to the burden of worry for him that Legolas already carried. So, Aragorn turned pleading eyes at Silien, and after a moment of indecision, the elf nodded his head and closed the door softly behind him.

A soft sigh of relief left Aragorn's lips, and he closed his eyes for just a moment. When he opened them again, Silien set the tray on the nightstand. Instead of helping Aragorn up, Silien sat down on the floor, folding his long legs under him. He eyed Aragorn for a moment, then raised an eyebrow in question.

In that moment, Silien reminded Aragorn so much of his brothers, that he had to smile weakly. Silien might look completely different than the twins, but over the weeks Aragorn had learned that the blond elf had a wicked sense of humor and a tender heart. If possible, Silien's eyebrow rose a notch higher, almost disappearing under his hairline. For another moment none of them spoke, but then it was Silien who broke the silence, "So, Estel, tell me. Why are you sitting on the cold floor instead of lying in that warm and comfortable bed over there?" There was a hint of amusement on his words, but his worry and confusion overshadowed it.

Aragorn gazed at the elf sitting next to him, but he did not know what to say. How could he explain to Silien all the things that went through his head? All the worry and pain and other feelings? Silien was good friend, yes, but a good friend enough to want to hear about his problems as well?

"Estel." Silien said, his voice softer, understanding, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He shifted a bit closer and bent his head to the side, "But tell me this, are you alright, or did you hurt yourself by so foolishly getting out of bed on your own and starting the adventure of examining the ground from close up?" There was laughter in Silien's voice, and before he knew it, Aragorn snorted.

"No, I'm not hurt, Silien. I'm as fine as I was before I got up."

"Ah, wonderful." Clapping his hands, Silien got to his feet and stretched a hand towards Aragorn. "Then let's get you up on your feet, Estel. The floor is not very interesting…or comfortable."

Sighing, Aragorn accepted Silien's help and let the elf pull him to his feet. They started in the direction of the bed, but before they reached it, Silien seemed to change his mind and turned them slightly to the left and deposited Aragorn onto one of the chairs. Sitting down in one of the others, Silien turned to face the young man. There was worry in his eyes, but honest curiosity, too.

Aragorn on the other hand, was a bit perplexed. He had thought that Silien would help him back to bed. Instead, the elf had sat him down a chair, as if he was not hurting, tired and…well, the ill invalid that all others thought Aragorn to be. Sitting in a chair instead of lying in bed felt almost normal, and Aragorn enjoyed the experience, if even for a few minutes.

"Tea?"

"Pardon me?"

"I asked if you wanted some tea, Estel." Silien gazed at him questioningly, gesturing at the tray holding a steaming teapot.

"Yes, thank you." Silien went over to the tray and returned with two cups of hot tea, handing one to Aragorn and sipping at the other. They sat for some minutes in silence, thinking. Before long, however, Aragorn lifted his head, "Silien?"

"Aye?" The elf's eyes were sparkling, his lips formed to a small smile.

"Thank you." It was all Aragorn could say, the only way he could express his feelings for the few tiny things that Silien had down. Not only today, but the other days as well. Silien had always been there for him since the day of the attack; the elf had been present to support him, had talked to him, left him in peace if he wanted to be alone, respected his wishes and never pushed him into talking or doing things he did not want to do. And today, Silien had given him back the feeling of being an individual again, of not being helpless and sick. Of being a victim. It meant much to Aragorn.

"You are welcome, Estel." Smiling, Silien inclined his head, and they drank the rest of their tea in silence.

From that day on, Silien came every day to visit Aragorn. To Aragorn's surprise, he felt comfortable around the elf, and he did not even resent Silien's help at walking. Where the healers always were pushy and cold, Silien merely helped him to walk, but did not direct his steps or force him to walk longer than he himself thought he was able to. They talked little, but what they spoke of was light and had nothing at all to do with the things that had happened. After only a week, Aragorn was able to walk around his room three times before he had to sit down, and he felt much better than before.

But all the time he spend with Silien could not mask the fact that Legolas's visits became fewer and shorter. And when he visited, Legolas mostly kept to himself, speaking little. With the days passing, Aragorn began to truly fear that Legolas had given up on him. When the elf visited, Aragorn tried to make an effort to speak with him, to be more open and social, just as he was, in a way, with Silien. But it did have little effect on Legolas. The Prince seemed absent and distracted, and after a few tries, Aragorn gave up. Maybe he _had_ lost Legolas already, and just did not want to accept it. It seemed that the elf was retreating from him, and did not wish to return to his side, be it as friend or lover.

Aragorn received letters from his family, telling him to be strong and to have hope that things would turn for the better. They also promised to come to Mirkwood as soon as the snow melted. Aragorn knew that he should feel better, knowing that his family was there for him, caring for him and loving him still, but he did not. His family should not worry so much, and they certainly should not need to make the long and dangerous journey to Mirkwood just because of him. Still, he longed to see them, and he did not have the heart to tell them to stay in Rivendell.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

While Aragorn spend time with Silien, working on getting better, Legolas had taken up his duties as a Prince again. He had not known what to do with the time he did not sit with Aragorn, and had found that he needed to do something. When he worked on patrol schemes, lists of supplies and contracts that were to be concluded with the traders of Laketown, he did not have to think of his friend and lover.

Legolas did not know what to say to Aragorn to make things right. It was as if the something that had held them together was broken, and he did not know how to fix it. He had come to resent his visits with Aragorn, knowing that his friend would not even look at him or talk with him.

If it had not been for Merenor, Legolas was sure, he would still be sitting in his room, brooding. It had been Merenor who had suggested that Legolas take up his duties again, and his advice had been highly appreciated. It had also been Merenor who kept Legolas company in the evening, when Legolas felt the most lonely. They talked about everything and nothing, and whenever Legolas was with Merenor, he felt as if things had not changed at all. With Merenor, Legolas felt….good again.

Of course, Legolas was still in love with Estel, but he felt so helpless. Things had changed between them, and he feared – more than anything else – that things would never be as they were. In a way, it was easier to not see Aragorn, than to have to face the pale, emotionless shell that Aragorn, in his eyes, had become. Legolas was so caught in his emotions and fears, that he did not notice the change that came over Aragorn, and the progress he made.

One evening, Aragorn and Silien sat in front of the hearth in Aragorn's room, sipping warmed and spiced wine. It had been a good day for Aragorn. He had finally been able to leave his room, and together with Silien he had walked the short distance to the next balcony. It had not been a balcony high up in the Palace, but one only a few yards above the ground, but Aragorn had been outside for the first time in weeks. The sky had been of a steely grey and the air freezing cold, but Aragorn had enjoyed every minute of it. Inhaling the cold air deep into his lungs, he had closed his eyes and basked in a feeling of pureness and serenity that he had not felt since he had woken up in the healing wing.

Back in his room, Silien had quickly slipped away and returned minutes later with the warmed wine and a huge smile on his lips. Aragorn had never told his friend why he was so eager to get his strength back, but he surmised that Silien knew somehow. He was so grateful for the support of the elf, and he vowed that one day, he would thank Silien properly for all his help. Maybe he would invite the elf to spend a summer in Rivendell, or he would convince his father to talk with the Lady Galadriel so that Silien would be able to journey to Lothlorien, for Silien had told him that this was his wish.

Smiling into his glass of wine, Aragorn pictured the argument he would have with his father over this. A soft sound to his left let him lift his head. Silien was watching him with bright eyes, a smile on his face.

"What?" Aragorn asked, a lopsided grin lifting the corners of his mouth.

Silien tilted his head to the side and watched him for a moment, "I think I have not seen you looking so happy and relaxed since the Winter Solstice celebrations." His smile widened, "Has something happened to make you so look so happy?"

When Silien said 'Winter Solstice', Aragorn automatically prepared for the jolt of fear and unease that would shoot through his stomach as it always did. After all, it had been then that Lithdal had attacked. But, to his surprise … nothing happened. He waited for another second, then grinned broadly. "Aye, I think something has indeed happened. But I don't think only today, but in the last weeks." Although his words were cryptical, Silien seemed to understand, and he did not ask what he was meaning. Instead, Silien refilled their wine glasses.

"I heard you received letters from Imladris?" Silien asked and crossed his long legs at the ankle.

"Aye, from my father and brothers. They wish me well and said that they would journey to Mirkwood as soon as the snow melts."

Silien merely nodded at this news, before he asked the next question, "What are your plans for tomorrow? Do you want to go outside again?"

Leaning back in his comfortable chair, Aragorn nodded, "Aye, I would like that. But maybe another balcony this time, one that is situated higher up. I would love to see the Mountains of Mirkwood."

"Maybe you could ask Legolas to join you." Silien's voice stayed casual, but he looked at Aragorn from the corner of his eyes. As Silien had feared, Aragorn's face fell slightly. The young man rotated his glass in his hands, staring into the red wine.

"I don't know, Silien. He seems to be awfully busy at the moment." Aragorn replied. He had worked hard to come to where he was now. But now that he had gained back his freedom, he was not sure if Legolas was still interested enough in him to care. After all, he had not visited him that day, neither the day before, and Aragorn was worried. He knew that he had treated Legolas poorly. And he also feared that Legolas would step back from his earlier words, and shun him because of what had happened to him. Suddenly, all the fear and insecurities Aragorn had tried to push away came back with a vengeance. Coldness filled his stomach, and he felt his breathing hitch. He was so caught up in his thoughts, that he did not even hear Silien's words.

When a slender hand was placed on his knee, Aragorn startled…but he did not pull away. Looking up into the face of the elf, Aragorn saw that Silien was smiling at him. "Why don't you ask him, Estel? I'm sure he would be delighted to join you."

There was so much confidence, so much care in Silien's eyes, that Aragorn felt a spark of hope rise in his chest. He nodded, "I will do that."

"Good." It was all Silien said about the matter, and they sat in companionable silence for another hour. Then, Silien excused himself, wished him a good night, and left with the promise to come back the next day. Aragorn sat in front of the hearth, sipping another glass of wine and pondereed the elf's suggestion to invite Legolas to a walk around the Palace. The more he thought about it, the more Aragorn yearned for Legolas's company. Silien was a good friend, but Aragorn had no other feeling for him than friendship. Pictures flashed before his eyes, of him and Legolas laughing and joking, of them kissing and sharing gentle caresses. For the first time since the attack, Aragorn felt the stirring of love inside of his heart. He missed Legolas. He loved the elf with a passion, and he wanted to be close to him. Whatever Lithdal had broken inside of him, Aragorn was certain that if it could be repaired, Legolas was the only one who could.

Aragorn downed his wine in one gulp, stood to his feet and inhaled deeply. There was no good reason why he should wait till the morning to ask Legolas. He should do it now. He left his room and slowly walked the short distance to Legolas's room.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

"Legolas, you have to eat something." Merenor admonished Legolas, shoving the plate of food across the table towards his friend. Legolas merely looked at it and shook his head, "I'm not hungry." Taking up his glass of wine, he got up and moved towards the hearth in his room. Behind him, Merenor sighed deeply. Glancing one last time at the plate of untouched food, he too got up and followed Legolas to the fireplace.

Sipping their wine, Legolas and Merenor stared into the flames in companionable silence. It had become a habit that Merenor kept Legolas company in the evenings, and they both felt comfortable around each other. This day had been especially taxing for Legolas, and the young elf felt completely drained and exhausted. First, one of his father's counselors had endlessly discussed with him a trade agreement with Laketown, then there had been some problem with the guard roster and to make matters a whole lot worse, Legolas had heard the rumor that Lithdal had actually had the nerve to ask to be let free again.

At the thought of _that_ elf, Legolas felt a shudder crawl down his back and he stiffened. He wished they could just lock the elf away in some dark place, loose the key and forget about him. Suddenly, Legolas felt Merenor's hands on his shoulders. "Legolas, you're tensed up. You need to try and relax." To underline his words, Merenor began to massage Legolas's tense shoulders, eliciting a small sigh from the blond elf.

Letting his head hang, Legolas closed his eyes. This felt so good…While Merenor let his hands work on the stiff muscles, Legolas tried to shake off his bad mood. It was not Merenor's fault that his day had been long and hard, and that he had been generally bad tempered in the last few weeks. To his regret, the situation with Aragorn had not changed, and Legolas feared that it would not change at all.

"Legolas please, relax. You are undoing my work." Merenor chided softly when Legolas tensed again at the thought of Aragorn.

"Sorry." Legolas mumbled and took another sip of his wine. Trying to not think about his problems, Legolas concentrated on Merenor's hands. They were large and strong, the hands of a warrior. They loosened his tense muscles with practiced ease, and when Merenor let his thumbs rub soothing circles at the base of his neck, the Prince sighed in contentment. He had not even realized how tense he had been before Merenor had begun to massage him. All of a sudden, Legolas felt wonderfully warm and relaxed.

He took another sip of his wine, letting it roll on his tongue. The wine tasted rich and was full of flavors, and with surprise Legolas noted that it was one out of the private store of his father's. He shook his head and smiled softly. He did not even want to know how Merenor had gotten it, or whom he had to pay.

"What is it, Legolas?" Merenor asked, his fingers stopping their soothing motions.

"Nothing." Legolas shook his head once more and turned around. He was very close to Merenor, their faces only a few hands apart from each other, "I was just lost in thought."

"Ah." Merenor grinned at him, but did not step back. With the open fireplace in his back and Merenor in front of him, Legolas was effectively trapped. "Do you feel better now, Legolas?" Merenor asked, a gleam in his eyes.

"Aye, much. Thank you." Taking another sip of wine, Legolas gazed at Merenor. He had known this elf almost all his life, and there had never been any secrets between them. Merenor had been his best friend, then his lover and then one of his best friends again. Their relationship had ended on mutual agreement, but Legolas knew that it had been more a separation because _he_ had wanted it, than Merenor. His duties as a Prince, their busy schedules and the lack of something that Legolas had always wanted but missed in their relationship had been the cause of their break up. But Legolas could not deny the fact that he still had feeling for Merenor. It were not the kind of feelings that he had for Estel, but feelings nonetheless. He was sure that it was _not_ love, though.

"You're most welcome, Legolas." Merenor smiled at him, his eyes sparkling. "I care about you, you know that, don't you? I hate to see you hurt." Reaching out, Merenor tucked a loose braid behind Legolas's ear, smiling sadly.

At Merenor's touch, warmth spread through Legolas's body. It had been so long since he had felt that way. Cared for, protected and loved. Automatically he closed his eyes, sighing softly. He had never been a person who could live alone, who was able to go without love for a long time. He felt safe and secure with Merenor, in that moment, it just felt so good to let go of his loneliness, his worries and his fear.

"Legolas…" Merenor's voice ghosted warm across his face, and Legolas exhaled deeply. Soft fingers caressed his cheek, almost shyly, and a small smile tugged at the corners of Legolas's mouth. Merenor had never been one to be overly shy…The fingers went into his hair, playing with the blond strands for a moment, before they lightly touched his ears. When soft fingertips gently stroked the tip of them, Legolas opened his eyes.

Wonder and surprise stood in the other elf's face, and his cheeks were flushed a soft pink. Merenor took Legolas's wine glass from him and placed it on a nearby table with his own. When he turned back, he stepped even closer towards Legolas. Merenor's face was so close now that their noses nearly touched. After a second of hesitation, Merenor leaned forwards and brushed his lips against Legolas's. In that moment, Legolas did not care whether it was wrong or not, if it was only the wine, or how he would feel afterwards. He had been so lonely, so heartbroken for weeks…he returned the tender kiss and his arms automatically found their way to Merenor's broad shoulders.

Suddenly, there was a sharp knock at the door and it opened. Legolas and Merenor immediately parted, feeling caught in the act. When Legolas saw who stood in the door, his eyes widened. Shock shot through him, and he felt his face lose all color. For a fleering moment he had the hope that Aragorn had not seen them kissing, but one look at Aragorn's face was enough to destroy that foolish hope. Disbelieve, hurt and betrayal flashed across Aragorn's face, quickly followed by something akin to embarrassment. Before Legolas could say something, the young man turned on his heel and shut the door.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Aragorn reached Legolas's room, leaning only slightly on the wall for support. The guards had not followed him, for they knew that after the attack this wing of the Palace was the best protected, and they still had a clear view of him from the corner of the hallway. Taking a deep breath, Aragorn decided that he would just do it. It was ridiculous that he was a bit afraid to speak with Legolas, really. Lifting his hand he knocked and without waiting for a reply, he opened the door.

Shock tore through Aragorn. It took only the blink of an eye for his heart to shatter so completely as if was made of glass and someone had driven an ax into it. His breath caught in his throat and before he knew what he was doing, he had closed the door again and was on his way back to his room. His mind was blank, while his blood rushed in his ears. This could not be true…he had not just seen that…

"Estel, wait!"

Hurried footsteps resounded on the stone behind him, but Aragorn did not want to wait. Quickening his steps, he walked down the corridor as fast as his feet would carry him. Something green rushed past him and a second later Legolas blocked his way. Holding his hands out, Legolas tried to apologize, "Estel, I'm so sorry. I did not mean to…it happened all so fast….I did not…Estel please believe me, it meant nothing to me."

Aragorn did not know what to say. Thousands of thoughts raced through his mind, battling for dominance. There was so much he wanted to say, to ask Legolas, but no words would come. Shaking his head, Aragorn turned and walked past Legolas. He needed to be alone, to think. But Legolas would not let him go. Hurrying past his friend, Legolas blocked his path once more.

"Estel please. It did not mean a thing!"

"Then why did you do it?" The words just flew out of Aragorn's mouth, but to his surprise was his tone not accusing, but resigned.

"I…I don't know. It just happened." Pleading blue eyes locked with Aragorn's. "Estel please believe me. It was a mistake."

"Aye, it was." Aragorn said sadly and shook his head, "I was a fool to believe that things had not changed. That you would still want me after what happened…" Tears sprang to his eyes, and he pushed past Legolas and fled down the corridor. The pain in his wound was no match for the pain in his heart. Not caring about the open stares of the guards, Aragorn practically rushed into his room, shut the door and bolted it in reflex. He sank to the ground where he sat, sobs shaking his body. While there were still a myriad of thoughts racing through his mind, the only thing he was aware of was the scene he had just witnessed. Of Legolas and Merenor kissing.

To be continued.

**See, I warned you. (hides behind the computer screen).**


	13. The end or just the beginning?

**A/N: I was never good with travel times, but a chart told me that the distance Rivendell-Mirkwood can be managed in 20 days when on horseback. Assuming that Elrond and his sons are hurrying but still hindered by the weather (snow and storms, rain and mud), they could nevertheless make the journey in ca. 20 days I think.**

Chapter 13: The end…or just the beginning?

„Estel? Please, open the door." Silien's concerned voice drifted through the wood of the door, but Aragorn did not move from his slouched position on the bed. It was late evening of the day after he had witnesses Legolas and Merenor kissing, and Aragorn had yet to unbolt the door. A few of the healers, some guards and even Legolas had knocked, but Aragorn wanted to see no one. Sometime during the night, he had gotten up from the ground and made it over to his bed, where he had flopped down and not moved since.

He hurt….Valar, did he hurt. There seemed to be a giant hole in his chest, right where his heart used to be, and the edges were burning with a red hot fire. It consumed his body and left nothing behind but smoldering ashes. Whenever he thought that he could cry no more, that his tears must finally dry up, the scene he had witnessed flashed before his eyes, and it all started over again. How could Legolas do that to him? And then say that it had not meant a thing to him? Maybe Legolas felt the same way about Aragorn, that their relationship had not meant a thing, either. Maybe it had all been a game for him, some play to pass the time. A few times, Aragorn even thought that maybe Lithdal had been right in claiming that Legolas had never loved him, and that he elf would stop wanting to be with him after what Lithdal had done…or had planned to do…

During the following day, the tears had stopped falling, but while the tears had helped him to feel better, Aragorn now felt drained and tired. But he could not sleep, for the hole in his chest hurt him beyond measure, and every time he closed his eyes, he either saw Lithdal, or Legolas and Merenor. Every minute turned into a nightmare, and he could not escape. All his hard work over the last weeks had been for naught. He had lost Legolas, and the feeling of loneliness and despair settled heavy in his chest.

He was hurt, physically and mentally, stranded in a strange realm, and unable to journey home. He felt so helpless. His best friend, the person he had loved with his body and soul, had betrayed him. What had he done to deserve this? Where had he gone wrong that the Valar hated him so much?

Sometime during the night, when he was too exhausted to cry but too hurt to sleep, Aragorn felt a change in him. After what Lithdal had done to him, something had broken inside of him, and so far he had harbored the hope that it could be fixed. Now he knew, that it was damaged beyond repair. He was damaged beyond repair. If loving someone hurt so much, if it brought so much pain and heartache with it, then maybe he must stop loving. Maybe he should just close his heart to the emotion of love, so that he would not be hurt again. And while his mind practically shouted at him that this was not the right path, Aragorn knew that the decision was already made, had been made the second he had lain eyes on Legolas and Merenor kissing.

"Estel? Can you hear me?" There was another knock at the door, and Aragorn drew the blanket over his head. Why would they not just leave him alone?

Another loud knock, "Estel, if you do not open the door right now, I'm going to break it down!" Hugging his pillow closer to his chest, Aragorn did not move. "Alright then, I will count to ten, and when the door is not open, I will force it open." Silien called, his voice sounding serious. "One, two…."

A small grimace appeared on Aragorn's slightly stubbly face. He really did not want to talk to anyone right now, but Silien seemed to be serious in his threat. Maybe it was easier to just open the door instead of having it broken open by force. "Five, six…" Aragorn let out a long sigh, but then he turned slowly over and stood up. The room spun around him for a moment, but then it was stationary and he slowly wobbled to the door. "Nine, ten!" Reaching out, Aragorn slowly withdrew the metal bolt, but he did not open the door. Slowly, he shuffled back to the bed and lay down, his back to the door.

He heard the door being opened and then closed, and a moment later the mattress of the bed dipped low, telling him that Silien had sat down next to him. "Estel?"

He was really not in the mood to talk, and neither did he have the energy to do so. All he wanted was to be left alone. Silien sighed, but was not discouraged by his lack of speech. "Alright, you don't want to talk. Then please Estel, listen to what I have to say." He paused for a moment, evidently to wait for a reaction from Aragorn, but when none was forthcoming, he continued, "I heard what happened, Legolas told me." Aragorn's shoulders stiffened, but he said nothing. "He deeply regrets what happened, and he is very sorry. He would like to speak with you and apologize."

Pain flooded Aragorn's body and his stomach felt as if someone had punched him. The fire reawakened in the hole in his chest, and it burned horribly. Breathing became difficult as the pain consumed him. His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke, "I don't want to see him."

Silien nodded, "I thought as much, Estel, and you have every right to be upset and hurt. I cannot imagine how you must feel now. What Legolas did was…it was not fair to you." He paused again, searching for words. "But Estel, I am worried about you, as are Legolas and the King. You are not healed yet, and I'm sure this has not helped your healing. You have not eaten since yesterday, nor have you had your herbal teas."

Aragorn said nothing, and so Silien continued, "Estel please, don't let this darken your heart. I know you must think that the whole of Arda has conspired against you, but you still have friends here, people who care about you and worry. And I know that especially Legolas is going out of his mind with worry and guilt. I am not saying that you have to speak with him today, or even tomorrow. But please Estel, don't let this harden your heart." When Aragorn did not answer, Silien sighed and got up. He softly closed the door behind him when he left, leaving Aragorn alone in his dark room, to ponder his words.

Another day passed, and Aragorn's health began to deteriorate. He would not eat, although he drank the teas that were brought to his room. While he had only used the sleeping potions at night, he began to take small doses of the herb during the day too, for it dulled his pain. The healers were worried, but they did not dare intervene, for the King told them to let Aragorn be, at least for the moment.

Aragorn spoke with no one, not even with Silien, who kept him company for a few hours each day. Silien took care of the fire in the hearth, made sure that there was always food available should Aragorn want to eat, he provided silent comfort and just took care of things. Although he never said it out loud, Aragorn was grateful for the elf's presence. It made him feel a little less lonesome. Three days after the incident, Aragorn felt so weak that he felt unable to leave the bed. He yet had to eat, and the lack of food and decent sleep robbed his body of the so hard won strength. Pale and thin, Aragorn looked almost as bad as on the day he had woken after the attack.

Deeply worried, Silien consulted with the King, who in turn consulted with the healers, but short of force feeding Aragorn, there was nothing they could do. Had Silien not known better, he would have said that Aragorn was fading from grief. And then something happened that changed the situation. Aragorn received a letter from his family, telling him that the first snow had melted and that they were on their way to Mirkwood to bring him home. The next morning, Silien found that half of the plate of fresh meat and bread had been eaten, as had the soup. As it appeared, Aragorn had begun to eat again. Encouraged, Silien brought him breakfast that morning, and smiled when the young man nodded his head in thanks. It was the first real sign that there was still life in Aragorn, and Silien's heart soared in relief.

Had Silien known that Aragorn had only begun to eat again, because he knew he would need his strength for his journey home, he would probably have not been so glad. The prospect of his family coming to bring him home, that he would soon leave Mirkwood behind, was the only thing on Aragorn's mind. He wanted to leave Mirkwood as soon as possible, for the realm had brought him nothing but heartache and pain. The sooner he could sit on his horse and ride home, the better. He had no desire to stay here.

While Aragorn stayed in his room at all times, Legolas was wandering the hallways and corridors of his home at night. Aragorn had refused to speak with him, and Legolas hated himself for what he had done. He had not spoken with Merenor either and he had no wish to. It had been a mistake, he knew that, and he wished he could turn back time and make that it had never happened. But alas, that was a wish that would never come true. The hurt in Aragorn's eyes, the disbelief…Legolas slept and ate little, which worried his father. While Aragorn, as a human, could not fade from grief, Legolas could, and the King worried that indeed that would happen. Already, Legolas's long blond hair had lost its radiance and his skin was pale. He was like a ghost, prowling the halls of his forefathers in misery at the dark of night.

Three weeks later…

Winter was finally over and the first shoots broke through the muddy ground. Fresh greens appeared everywhere and the temperatures rose above the freezing point. The snow slowly melted and the birds returned to their beloved trees. In the Palace, things had not changed much. While Aragorn regained some of his physical strength, he would not see Legolas, nor talk much. Silien was the only one whom he allowed to spent time with him, but the sparkle had left Aragorn's eyes, his body was thin, his skin pale and he showed dark circles under his eyes. Sometimes, Aragorn could place a hand across his chest, as if the was hurting, but he never said a thing. It was as if he had lost some inner power that usually helped him to go on.

Legolas did not fare better. Under strict order from his father, the healers oversaw his breakfast, lunch and dinner, making sure that he ate and drank enough. Due to his lethargic state, he was excused from his duties. When he did not try to talk Silien to convince Aragorn to see him, he was standing on one of the balconies, staring out over the land, his eyes far away. Aragorn's birthday on the first of March came and went unnoticed and uncelebrated by all.

Sitting in an overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace, Aragorn stared into the flames with empty eyes. All his days followed the same routine and he had long since capitulated to change that. His heartache at seeing Legolas so intimate with another had grown into a dull ache in his chest, the edges of the hole still smoldering, but the flames were tamed. He felt cold and lifeless. He had pushed his emotions so deep down that he could barely feel anything at all, but his emotions swirled underneath like a frothing river, ready to burst free. But while he felt lethargic and empty most of the time, there were days on which he felt so angry. Then he would like nothing more than to shout and rant, to throw things against the wall just to see them shatter, and more than once he had to stop himself from slamming his fist against the stonewalls. It scared him, and he feared what he would do should someone be on the receiving end of one of his angry spells.

Thinking of nothing in particular and just wishing that it was evening already so that he could drink his sleeping potion and forget his troubles, Aragorn was rudely startled from his gloom. Loud voices came from the corridor and seeped through the wood of his door. Lifting his head marginally, Aragorn listened but could not understand the words that were spoken. There were other sounds, too, of running feet and shutting doors. Having not the energy to get up and open the door to find out what was going on, Aragorn turned his head back to the flames.

A moment later, the door to his room was thrown open and light from the corridor shone into it. Gazing back at the door in surprise, Aragorn could see that a tall form stood in the doorway, but with the light in the background and the shadows that the fire created, he could not make out who it was. That was, until the figure spoke, "Estel!"

"Ada…" Aragorn more whispered than said. He was halfway up from the chair when he was already engulfed in the loving embrace of his foster father. Placing his head on his father's shoulder, Aragorn breathed in deeply. Familiar scents assaulted his senses, and he sighed deeply. Leaning more heavily against his father's chest, he wrapped his arms around him, murmuring, "I missed you, ada."

"Oh my Estel, I missed you too. But now we are here, and all will be well again." Elrond stroked his son's hair while he held him, for once grateful that his young son could not see his face. How thin his body had become, and how pale and sickly he looked! Where had his Estel gone? His sparkling, inquisitive eyes and his ready smile? Elrond had excepted that his son would not be healed completely by now, but he was totally shocked to see him thusly.

Aragorn heard that the door was being closed, and he lifted his head from his father's shoulder. Behind his father stood his brothers, wearing muddy and dirty riding gear. When they saw that he was looking at them, they smiled at him, and in that moment, the emotions that Aragorn had suppressed for weeks broke free. Tears welled up in his eyes and fell freely down his cheeks. He reached out his arm to his brothers, and a moment later all four hugged each other, with Aragorn in their middle. He cried silently, barely making a sound, but his chest heaved and his shoulders trembled.

"Shh, Estel, shh. We are here now, and we won't leave again." Elrond soothed his son, clinging to him as much as Aragorn clung to him.

It took some time before Aragorn calmed down, but then father and sons sat around the fire. A servant brought tea and some food, and Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir shed their filthy riding clothing and changed into something clean. Not once they left Aragorn's room, for they felt that Aragorn needed their presence.

They had ridden long and hard to reach Mirkwood as soon as possible, and although they were tired, they wished to be with their hurting brother and son. They had barely spoken to the King upon arriving, rushing down the corridors in the direction the servants and guards had pointed them. They knew that they would have to speak to King Thranduil rather sooner than later, but first they wanted to make sure that Aragorn was safe.

While the twins sat on the ground, Elrond had pushed one of the chairs close to Aragorn, and his hand rested on his forearm. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting orange shadows over the walls. They sat in comfortable silence, until Aragorn's soft voice broke it, "I'm glad you are here, but you should not have troubled yourself with coming all the way to Mirkwood just because of me."

"It was no trouble, Estel, and even if it was, we would do it again." Elladan said gently, placing his hand on Aragorn's knee. "You are our brother and we love you. You needed us and so we came."

"But…"

"No, Estel, there are no 'buts'. We would travel the whole of Arda just to see you, you know that." Elrohir chimed in, gazing up at his human brother with bright eyes. A little bit overwhelmed, Aragorn nodded in gratitude and wiped away another tear.

Wrapping an arm around his son's shoulders, Elrond leaned close to him, "We all love you, Estel, we would do all in our power to see that you are safe and whole."

And for the first time in days, a tiny smile graced Aragorn's lips.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Elladan closed the door softly behind him, exhaling slowly when he heard the lock click into the frame. He turned big eyes on his twin, "He is so changed, Elrohir. I can barely believe that this is my little brother in there."

Elrohir nodded and shook his head at the same time, "There is so much darkness in his eyes. As if he is caught in the dark." The younger twin gazed at the closed door for a moment, behind which their father was keeping watch over a slumbering Aragorn. "I worry for him, Elladan. I fear we have come too late."

Elladan gripped his brother's arm, "Don't say that. There is still hope." Elrohir sighed, but nodded, "You are right, Elladan, of course." He took a deep breath, "I wonder where Legolas is. They were inseparable in Rivendell, and from the tone of his letter, he worries about Estel, too."

"Then let us find out where he is." Elladan said, and with his brother at his side, he made his way down the corridor towards Legolas's room. The twins had been to Mirkwood before, and knew the Palace almost as well as their own home. Upon reaching the Prince's room, they saw that it was empty; Legolas was not there. While still pondering where to look for the errant Prince, Silien passed by the room, carrying a tray of tea and some cakes. When he saw the twins, he stopped.

"Mae govannen, my Lords." He bowed his head slightly. "My name is Silien, and I consider myself a friend of your brother."

Elladan and Elrohir greeted Silien politely, before Elladan asked curiously, "A friend of Estel, you say?" Silien nodded, "I am on my way to him right now, to bring him some tea and something to eat."

"Our father is with him and he sleeps." Elrohir explained, which caused Silien to nod his head in understanding. "But maybe you can help us, Silien. We are looking for Legolas. Have you seen him?"

For a moment, a strange emotion flickered through Silien's eyes, but it was too fast gone for the twins to recognize. "I'm not sure where Legolas is at the moment. He has been excused from his duties at court." He paused and gazed back at the way he had come, "But if I had to guess, I would say that he sought solitude on one of the balconies looking out to the West." Upon the twins' blank expressions, he explained, "Legolas watches not the rise of the sun these days, but only as it sinks into the gloom of Mirkwood." With those words, Silien turned and vanished down a staircase, leaving two confused elves behind.

In the end, the twins found Legolas on one of the highest balconies of the Palace, and he was indeed watching the sunset. The sun sank as a red glowing ball behind the high trees of Mirkwood, and its last fiery rays pierced the trees like spears. Staring at the scene, stiff and unmoving, Legolas did not acknowledge the presence of the twins. A gust of wind blew his hair around his face, and only when the last ray of sunlight had vanished and the forest around them was bathed in shadow and darkness, did he turn around to the sons of Elrond.

"You have come." He said, his face emotionless.

Had it not been for the gloom of early night, Elladan would have sworn that Legolas looked like a ghost. His skin was pale, his cheeks hollowed out and there were dark shadows under his eyes. And he looked thin, maybe even thinner than their human brother. Swallowing hard, Elladan took a step closer to his old friend, "Of course we came, after what has happened."

Legolas looked at him sadly, and his eyes burned with guilt and self-loathing, "And so far you only know half of the tale." Legolas told them what had transpired between him and Merenor, and how Aragorn had found out and what had happened afterwards. When he ended, Legolas turned his gaze back towards the shadows of Mirkwood and his voice was soft, "I won't ask you to forgive me what I have done, for I can find no forgiveness in my own heart. I hurt Estel beyond words, and I will always hate me for it. But please, help Estel. I fear for him, and I cannot help him. He won't let me, and he is right not to do so. But I would see him happy again." A tear rolled down Legolas's cheek and splashed onto the banister of the balcony.

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a long look, communicating without words. Legolas's tale had shocked them, but they finally understood the state their little brother was in. And it also explained why Legolas looked as if he had already died. The elf was fading. The twins were angry at Legolas because of what he had done, because he had hurt their brother, but an elf feels compassion more strongly than hate and anger, for that is how Illuvatar has created them.

"Legolas…" Elrohir came up behind the elf and placed his hands on his shoulders, "it is not we that must forgive you, but Estel. This is between you and him and we will not interfere." Elladan joined his brother and sidled up beside Legolas, "We can see that you are hurting Legolas." Elladan tucked a strand of dull blond hair behind Legolas's ear, "You are fading, my friend."

Legolas shook his head, "I'm not fading, Elladan. I would not seek the way of the coward to escape my responsibility concerning your brother's condition. I am merely tired."

"No, my friend, you are fading. I have been trained as a healer, and I have seen elves fade away from grief." Elladan placed his hand on Legolas's, "Your skin is cold, and your light is almost gone."

Pulling his hand away, Legolas stepped back and freed himself from the twins' touches, "You should not concern yourselves with me. You came here to care for Estel, and that is where you should be. I can take care of myself." And with those words he left the balcony.

Exchanging a long look with his twin, Elladan voiced his thoughts, "We came here to help Estel, but now we have not only to safe him, but Legolas as well. Things are much darker in Mirkwood than I had feared."

"In Mirkwood," Elrohir replied, "and in the hearts of those we hold dear."

In silence the brothers watched the dark forest around him, their own hearts troubled. It was Elrohir, always the more sensitive of the twins, who spoke next. His voice was soft, but confused, "I don't understand, Elladan. What could have caused Legolas to turn to another? He adores our brother, he would lay his own life down to safe his."

Elladan frowned and shook his head, "I don't know either. But I can guess." His dark eyes turned even darker, "Estel is changed, muindor. And much so. We don't know what happened between him and Legolas. But from what I can tell now, our little brother has never before guarded his heart so fiercely. Whatever drove Legolas to do as he did, I fear that Estel had his part to play in this as well." Elladan turned and looked at his brother, "But I think it is not our part to investigate, for this is between them, and them alone."

Elrohir nodded his head, but sighed frustrated, "Legolas is like a brother to me. I hate to see him thus. And Estel…I fear for him."

Sensing his brother's pain, Elladan placed a hand on his shoulder, "Time will tell, muindor. Have faith. Their hearts may be blinded now and hurting, but in the end, I am sure, they will remember their love for each other."

Elrohir sighed once more, but did not reply.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next day, Elrond and the twins spoke with the King about the things that had happened during the winter. They were shocked and outraged when they learned what had truly transpired between Lithdal, Legolas and Estel, for a letter could not convey emotions as well as a conversation. When they heard that Lithdal had even asked to be set free, the twins' faces darkened dangerously. There was only so much they could take, and Lithdal had definitely overstepped the line.

The King spoke of his concerns about his son, and the twins shared his worries. Legolas was not looking healthy, and although the healers made him eat, he seemed to take no energy from the food. Even if he was not fading already and the twins had been mistaken, they all feared that it was only a matter of time. Elrond promised Thranduil to look at his son and to determine his condition, and he would do all in his power to safe him.

That morning, Elrond and the twins helped Estel to move to another room. Thranduil had placed them all in the royal guest chambers and after much coaxing and warm smiles, the twins had finally convinced their foster brother to move back there too, if not into the same room. That room, Thranduil had made clear, would not be used again.

The days passed rather quickly, as the travelers unpacked and reacquainted themselves with the Palace. Elrond would not leave Aragorn's side for long periods of time, and the young man was just glad to be with his family again, although he spoke little. When dinnertime arrived, servants brought food and wine, and when it was time to go to bed, the twins said their goodnights and went to their respective bedrooms, but Elrond lingered. He was worried at the amount of sleeping potion Aragorn drank each night, and he only went to sleep when he had made sure that his young son slept peacefully, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Each night Elrond vowed that he would speak with Aragorn about the sleeping potion, but so far he had not had the courage. Aragorn had not spoken with them about what had happened, but Elrond knew enough. If taking a sleeping potion was the only way for his son to sleep at all, to escape the horror he had gone through, then Elrond did not want to take this comfort away from his son. But as a healer he knew that Aragorn could not continue to take it for much longer. His body grew accustomed to it, and it would be difficult to stop taking it. But aside from that, Elrond knew that they could not make the journey back to Rivendell with Aragorn taking the sleeping potion. It was too dangerous. If they were attacked at night, Aragorn would need to be fully awake; the lingering effects of the sleeping potion could prevent that.

When the second week of their stay began, Elrond went looking for Legolas, while Elladan and Elrohir stayed with Aragorn. It was obvious that the young man enjoyed the company of his brothers, although he still spoke little and barely smiled. Elrond hoped that the twins, with their roguish streak but gentle manner, would be able to coax Aragorn to tell about what happened, so that he could begin to heal. Meanwhile, Elrond wanted to talk to Legolas. His sons had verified the King's fears and they had also told him about what Legolas had done. While one part of Elrond wanted to rip Legolas apart because he had hurt Aragorn, a much bigger part, his healer part, wanted to make sure that the young elf was well.

Reaching the door to Legolas's room, Elrond knocked softly. A moment later, the door was opened. "Lord Elrond!" Legolas looked up at him with wide eyes, a hint of fear glimmering in their depths. "I assumed that you would come. Come in." Legolas stepped back and held the door open. As soon as Elrond had entered, he closed it softly, gesturing to one of the chairs. "Please, sit down."

Elrond did as he was asked, but not before he let his eyes sweep the room. Legolas had always been a neat and tidy person, someone who's possessions were orderly staked on cupboards and chests. But now…the room was a mess. Glasses and half empty plates stood on trays around the room, clothing and shoes littered the floor and the furniture. It was as if the room had not been cleaned in weeks. Stashing this thought away in the back of his head, Elrond gazed at the young Prince. Legolas had taken a seat across from him and was eying him warily.

'He fears what I have come to say.' Elrond mused, saddened by the fear he saw in the younger elf's eyes. Legolas was like a son to him. 'And my sons have been right.' Elrond took in the pallor of Legolas's skin, the dull hair, the dark circles under his eyes, and the almost absent inner light of his fea. 'Almost absent…' Elrond thought, and hope surged through him. Legolas stood near on the boarder to fading, but he had not crossed yet, something was holding him back.

"Legolas, how are feeling?" Elrond asked gently, and was surprised when Legolas's face registered shock mixed with disbelief.

"H..How I am feeling?" Legolas stammered back, frowning.

"Aye, Legolas. How are you doing?"

Legolas gazed at Elrond for a moment, not sure what to say. It had been weeks since anyone had asked how he felt…and truly meant it. "I feel…" He wanted to say fine, but when he saw that Elrond's eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly, he decided that he would be honest with Elrond. "I feel horrible, my Lord." He let his head fall and looked at his hands. "I am so sorry."

"Because you kissed another?" Elrond asked calmly.

Legolas's head snapped up and his eyes bore into Elrond's. "You know?" He almost whispered, the fear darkening his eyes. Elrond nodded, "Aye, I know. Elladan and Elrohir told me."

Nodding his head dejectedly, Legolas gazed back at his hands, "You must hate me, Lord Elrond. What I did is unforgivable. I hurt Estel. But I am so sorry."

"I don't hate you, Legolas. My hate is reserved for the evil creatures of Sauron, but not for you." Legolas bit his lip, but then nodded. The fear vanished from his eyes.

"Why did you do it?" Elrond leaned forwards, "When you left Imladris last year, you were in love with Estel. You would have died for him. Elves do not give their hearts lightly, and neither do they withdraw it without repercussions. What has changed your heart, Legolas?"

There was a pause, and then Legolas lifted his head in despair, "I know not. My heart has not changed. I still love Estel. I just….I cannot explain it, my Lord. In that moment, it felt as if it wasn't me. But it was!" Legolas bit his lip, "I regret what I did and I haven't seen Merenor since that night. I wish I could turn back time, but I cannot."

It gladdened Elrond's heart to hear those words. Legolas still loved his son, and from what he had seen in the younger elf's eyes, he meant what he said. "You know not the reason?" Elrond said gently, almost prodding, "Did Estel hurt you in any way?"

"No!" Legolas explained, aghast at the very thought. But then he remembered the apathy of his friend, the conversations that were more monologues, the cold looks, the shunned heart. Legolas turned his head, for he did not want Elrond to see his expression. He did not want Elrond to think that he blamed Estel for what he had done, for he did not.

To his surprise, Elrond placed a warm hand on his knee in a fatherly gesture, as if he had guessed his thoughts nevertheless, "What are you planning on doing now, Legolas?"

Another pause. Legolas wringed his hands and gazed at the fireplace, before his eyes found Elrond's, "I know not."

"How about you begin with forgiving yourself?" Elrond grabbed one of Legolas's hands in his own, "I know that it is hard, but as you said, you cannot go back and change what you did. You have to live with the consequences. And sitting in this room all day and brooding will not help you. Leave this room, Legolas, go and meet some friends, go see your father."

"You ask me to go on with my life, when I see none for myself. How can I just go on as if nothing has happened? I hurt the only person I ever really loved. What I did brought shame upon me."

Elrond tightened his hold on Legolas's hand, "I don't ask you to live your life as if nothing has happened. I am asking you to live with your mistakes. That, Legolas, will be your punishment. And Estel will have to live with his mistakes."

Shocked blue eyes met Elrond's, but then the young elf nodded. "You are right."

When Elrond left Legolas's quarters, he felt gladdened and sad at the same time. In his opinion, Legolas had made the first step away from the darkness. He was sure that the young elf would not fade, and that gladdened his heart. But he was sad that he had told Legolas that living with his deeds would be his punishment. He knew not exactly where that thought had come from, but he knew that it was true. Oh, he wished it was different and that Legolas would find it in his heart to forgive himself, and he also hoped that Aragorn would one day forgive him, but he did not think that it would happen soon. Both of them were young and made mistakes, and loving another was a big commitment both of them had yet to learn. Still, Elrond was certain that Legolas would be able to stay in Arda.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Elrond finally spoke with Aragorn about the sleeping potion, and together they slowly diminished the dose of it. A few more weeks passed and Aragorn managed to sleep without the sleeping potion, but it was always a restless sleep, full of nightmares. With the help of his brothers, the young man worked through them, and when the first really warm spring day arrived, Elrond decided that it was time for them to return to Imladris. The preparation took another few days, but then all was ready. The King asked them all to dine with him the evening before they departed, and although the food was good and Elrond and Thranduil did their best to carry on a light conversation, the meal was a strained affair. Sitting between his brothers, Aragorn could not help but glance at Legolas's out of the corner of his eyes.

The young elf sat beside his father at the head of the table, pushing his food around his plate, barely eating. Aragorn had been shocked when he had seen Legolas enter the dining room. He had not seen him since the day he had caught him with Merenor, and the sight of Legolas's pale, skinny and dejected form had surprised him. His first reaction had been to run over to the elf and hug him and take away his pain, but then his mind had cruelly shown him the memory of Legolas and Merenor kissing, and he had stayed in his seat, the hole in his chest ignited with liquid fire. The pain stole his breath away, causing his father to look at him in alarm until he could breathe again.

But still, Legolas worried Aragorn, although he did not really now why. When the evening advanced, Aragorn caught himself staring at the elf, and he quickly turned his eyes away, feeling the pain in his chest all too clearly. But still, something stirred in his heart, worry and care and something else, and he wished he could go back to his room to sort out his feelings. Legolas did not once look at him, his eyes downcast.

Later that night, when Aragorn, his brothers and father returned to their quarters, Aragorn suddenly regretted that he had not spoken with Legolas during the last weeks. Legolas had looked….dejected, hopeless, even. But why? Aragorn could not understand why Legolas was so unhappy, for had he not found another one whom he loved? Confused, Aragorn lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Very early the next morning, before the cooks were up and the servants awake, Aragorn slipped out of his room. There was something he needed to do before he could leave Mirkwood. And it was not only talking to Legolas, although that was something he needed to do, too. But right now, Aragorn was slowly making his way down the empty corridors towards the basement of the Palace. He had been here before, once, when Legolas had shown him his home. They had not lingered, for Aragorn found it too dark and too hopeless a place to be.

Turning another corner, Aragorn walked down a long corridor that was lit with numerous torches and lamps. At the end, a huge double door waited for him, flanked by two armed guards. The door led to the dungeons. The guards eyed him warily but they let him pass without so much as a word.

The stairs led him down another level and the air became colder and frowsty. Spider webs clung to the corners and it was darker here. Aragorn felt his heart rate increase and his steps faltered. He had no trouble to distinguish in which cell Lithdal was being held, for a single guard stood in front of the door. He eyed Aragorn, then nodded his head politely. Aragorn took a deep breath and walked up to the guard. His eyes locked on the door behind which was Lithdal, and before he knew it, the guard silently walked back to the staircase that led upstairs, giving him his privacy. The key to the door, though, he took with him.

Alone, standing in the stale corridor and shivering in the cold, Aragorn wondered if this had been a good idea. Coming down here all alone, without telling his family where he had gone, what was he thinking?! 'Maybe that you need to put an end to this affair.' A soft voice inside his head said. 'You need to speak with him to overcome your fear. You need to get back that piece of your soul that Lithdal has taken.' Taking one last, deep breath to calm his nerves, Aragorn reached out and slowly pulled the metal screen away. The room behind the screen was pitch black. Aragorn leaned forwards to see better, but it was no use; the room had no light source and was as dark as Mirkwood at night. Or was there…Aragorn frowned. There was something lighter in the sea of black, something shining in a slight blue or gold…

"Mae govannen, Estel. I knew you would come."

Startled, Aragorn took a step back from the door, his heart racing. 'Fool', he admonished himself. Of course Lithdal would be able to see his face, after all, the corridor was lit by a few torches. Taking a deep breath and trying to school his features, Aragorn got back to the door. There came a soft rustling from inside, as if Lithdal had climbed to his feet and a moment later Lithdal's voice came again, "It is lovely to see you again, Estel. I have dreamed of you, you know."

A lump formed in Aragorn's throat, but he did not back away. He had come here with a purpose, and he would not leave ere he had said what he wanted to say. But before he could say a word, Lithdal reached the door. He locked his gaze on Aragorn's face, letting it travel from his forehead to his eyes, his cheeks, his lips, "Oh, how I missed you, Estel. Ah…" He reached out and tried to touch Aragorn's face through the metal bars, but Aragorn jumped back. "No!"

"Ah, still so skittish." Lithdal laughed, "I thought we had overcome your fear of me, my love. You were not so shy last time."

Something snapped in Aragorn. All the weeks of bottling up his emotions, of suppressing his anger…it all broke free. Stepping back towards the door, Aragorn banged his fist against the door, making it rattle in its hinges. Lithdal took a step back, momentarily startled. Aragorn's voice shook in anger, "Last time you deceived me. You nearly killed me!" Right now, his anger overrode his fear, and Aragorn did nothing to push his anger down.

"Only to make you see reason, Estel."

"I saw reason the first time you attacked me. You are sick. You are crazy and you are a murderer." Aragorn felt his anger boil, "And you will pay for what you have done."

Lithdal came back to the door, his face bathed in the light of the torches. A smile tugged on his lips, "Aye, I will be punished. I will be exiled, I know." He let his eyes travel towards Aragorn's lips, then up to his eyes, "So we can be together forever. Free from the prying eyes of the elves. Only you and me."

Aragorn's stomach churned at the lust he saw in Lithdal's eyes. Sweat broke out on his body and his fear rose. But he pushed it down resolutely. He had come to tell Lithdal something, and he would do so.

"They will not exile you." He said, his voice shaking slightly, watching Lithdal's reaction. The elf seemed surprised, "No?"

"No." Aragorn swallowed. This was it. A small smiled pulled at his lips, and he did not even try to stop it, "I spoke with the King and the counsel. They decided that exiling you from the elvish realms would not help you overcome your problem. They have decided that you will be escorted to the shores, from where you will sail to Valinor."

Shock registered on Lithdal's face, quickly followed by denial. "You lie, they would not do that."

Aragorn nodded his head, "They would and they will."

Shaking his head, Lithdal gripped the metal bars, "When?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Aragorn tilted his head to the side, "I don't know. Soon. After I have left Mirkwood, I guess."

"You leave?" Lithdal's eyes went wide.

"Of course I leave. What did you think? That I'd stay here just to watch your trial?" Aragorn shook his head, "There are more important things waiting for me elsewhere."

Lithdal seemed to be shocked at his words, just as Aragorn had hoped he would be. Lithdal thought that he was the most important thing for Aragorn, the center of his world, and to just been told that he was dismissed that easily truly surprised him. Lithdal had obviously hoped to see Aragorn at the trial. That he would not be given that chance hurt him. But Aragorn was not yet finished.

"And you know what, Lithdal?" He stepped even closer to the door, "I asked them to not exile you, but send you away."

"What?" Lithdal's grip on the metal bars tightened.

"They think that you are ill, that you can heal in the Undying Lands, but I know better." A wicked smile played on his lips and suddenly, Aragorn felt calm, "You are not ill and Valinor cannot heal you. Once you set foot on the white shores, you will not be able to get back to Arda. And for the rest of your days you will live in the knowledge that you will never see me again, never talk to me again and never, never get the chance to touch me again. For you know, Lithdal, the gift of the Valar will ensure that I will never set foot in Valinor, not even after my death."

Shock, pain and disbelief flooded Lithdal's eyes and his face became pale. The whole amount of his punishment suddenly became clear to him. His grip on the bars turned his knuckles white, "But…"

"No but, the decision has already been made." Aragorn smiled at Lithdal sweetly, but his eyes were cold, "I wish you a happy eternity, Lithdal." And with that said, he turned around and walked down the corridor. Not even the huge double doors could shut out Lithdal's wretched screaming, his curses and sobbing pleas. But Aragorn did not turn around, and when he climbed the stairs to the royal wing, he knew that this visit had done him good. He felt better than he had in days. His anger seemed to have dissipated, as if he had spent it all during his conversation with Lithdal.

Taking a few deep breaths, Aragorn felt some of the tension in his body loosen and he relaxed somewhat. That was, until he walked past Legolas's door.

Some of the tension returned and he stopped in his tracks. He wanted to speak to Legolas, yes. He had thought that he would speak with him over breakfast, or right before they departed. But maybe right now was as good a time as any. Before he could change his mind, Aragorn knocked on the door. There came a grunt, a shuffling sound, and then the door opened and revealed a slightly bedraggled looking Legolas. It was obvious that the elf had still been asleep. When Legolas saw Aragorn, he straightened, "Estel!"

"May I come in?" Aragorn asked, suddenly not so sure if Legolas wanted to see him at all. Maybe Legolas was not alone…

"Of course, come in." Legolas stepped away hastily and Aragorn entered the otherwise empty room. The room looked the same since the last time Aragorn had been here, and at the same time completely different. It was obvious that Legolas had been rather preoccupied with other things the last few weeks. The door closed with a soft click, and Aragorn turned around to face Legolas. Now that he was here, he did not really know what to say. He held his breath in anticipation of the pain that he knew would assault him, and when it came, hot and angry, he took a deep breath to master it. The pain receded, but did not vanish altogether.

Seeing Legolas now, being in the same room with him, it brought back all the happy memories he had, the laughter and fun, the smiles, gestures and gentle touches. Suddenly, Aragorn knew what the stirring inside his heart had been. Love. He still loved Legolas. So much so that it hurt him. But there was so much he had to deal with, so much to work out and to overcome…

"Estel? Are you alright?" Legolas's worried voice reached his ears and Aragorn realized that he had stared at the elf without saying anything.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Aragorn hastened to say, and because he was already talking, he mused that he could just say what he wanted to say before he lost his nerve, "Legolas, I wanted to talk to you before we leave today. There are some things I want to tell you."

Legolas nodded, but he did not say anything. Licking his lips, Aragorn took a deep breath, "I heard that you were starting to fade, Legolas. I was worried. But Ada told me that you are doing fine now, and I'm glad for you. There are so many things you wanted to see and do and experience. I would hate for you to never get that opportunity." Aragorn gave a timid smile, before he continued, "And also…I would hate for you to go before…before we have had a chance to…to work things out and to…maybe to….I mean I regret so much and….I…." Aragorn did not know what to say and he broke off. He did not even know if Legolas still wanted to work things out, still wanted him after all that Aragorn had done to him. And then there was Merenor to consider…Looking to the floor, Aragorn began to wonder whether this had been a bad idea after all.

"Really?" Legolas's voice was barely above a whisper. "You would want to…give me another chance?" Disbelief and hope swung in the elf's voice, causing Aragorn to glance at him. Legolas's eyes were huge and he was staring at him as if he had seen a ghost. Aragorn nodded, "I did not realize it, but I missed you and I…it is not completely your fault, I mean, I did things that were flatly unforgivable. I mean, I ignored you, I pushed you away, I gave you the feeling that I did not love you anymore, I…" Aragorn shook his head, noticing that he was rambling. "I am sorry, Legolas."

"No, I am sorry, Estel. What I did is unforgivable."

Aragorn sighed, "So, to make a long story short, we both did things that we regret, and we both…love each other still?" He timidly looked at Legolas.

"Yes, I still love you Estel. Today more than ever." Legolas took a step towards Aragorn, eyes brimming with tears.

"I love you too." Aragorn whispered, his own tears falling. A moment later, they held each other close, crying silently. "I was such a fool, Estel." Legolas said. "I am so sorry."

"I am sorry too. I was just so…confused after all that had happened. It was not my intention to push you away." Aragorn pulled away from Legolas and looked him in the eye. "Will you forgive me?"

"Of course, Estel. It was not your fault. Something horrible happened to you, and you dealt with it the only way you knew how to." Legolas said, wanting to ask if he was forgiven too, but too afraid to do so.

Accepting Legolas's words, Aragorn took another deep breath. There was one more thing he needed to speak about, "Legolas, you and Merenor…" Before he could finish, Legolas interrupted him, "I have not seen him since. There is nothing between us. Please Estel, you have to believe that!" Legolas's eyes were pleading.

"I do believe you, Legolas. I really do. But…although I still love you, I just cannot forget it, just yet." Aragorn sighed, "I feel confused and hurt and…I don't know. But I know that I love you, Legolas, and that I want to give us another chance."

Legolas's face fell slightly, but he nodded his head in understanding. "I understand."

Stepping closer, Aragorn rested his head on Legolas's shoulder, "I wish we had this conversation weeks ago. I'm leaving today."

Hugging Aragorn close and taking a deep breath, inhaling the young man's scent, Legolas echoed his words, "I wish you would stay but I know that you need to be home and with your family to heal."

"We can write." Aragorn suggested, earning him a nod from Legolas. "Yes, Estel, we can write." But they both knew that it was not the same. Suddenly, Legolas pulled away, his face registering worry, "What about the trial? Without your testimony, he will probably be set free…"

"No, he will not." Aragorn's eyes turned a shade darker, "I spoke with you father and the council yesterday. I wrote down an account of what happened, and signed it. Your father signed as witness that it was me who wrote the account, of my own free will, and the council accepted it. There will be no official public trial, but only a trial for Lithdal to have his say. They are going to send him to the Undying Lands." There was guilt in Aragorn's eyes, for sending Lithdal to Valinor meant that one day, he and Legolas would meet again.

But Legolas nodded his head and said with finality, "So it is over then."

"Aye, I guess it is." Aragorn said, looking up towards Legolas's blue eyes, "Maybe the end of this can be our new beginning."

Smiling, tears rolling down his cheeks, Legolas nodded his head. "Yes, I dearly hope so."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

The journey to Imladris was uneventful, a storm that made them camp at the foot of the Misty Mountains the worst that happened. Once he was home, Aragorn recovered quickly. With the familiar surroundings, away from the darkness of Mirkwood and the ever present memories of what had happened, he regained his strength and energy in but a few weeks. The hole in his chest became smaller with every day that passed and the pain vanished. But it was still there and would alight anew whenever Aragorn thought of Legolas and Merenor. Of course, the events had not left him unaffected, and his easy smile and happy laughter had yet to return.

As he had suggested, he wrote to Legolas regularly, and when summer came, he was sure, deep down in his heart, that Legolas and he could make a new start. At the end of summer, a group of rangers came to the valley, and when they left again, Aragorn went with them. They would circle the valley and return before winter set in. In Aragorn's opinion, this was just what he needed. To be away from home, on his self, independent and free, with people who had no idea what had happened to him. He wrote to Legolas where he was going and that he would not be able to write for a couple of weeks, and he hoped that Legolas would understand.

When the first icy fingers of winter reached the lands, Aragorn returned to the valley. The patrol with the rangers had done him good. His skin had lost its pallor and taken on a golden hue due to the hot summer sun and the warm autumn. And, much to his family's happiness, his eyes were shining again. It was not until late in the evening on the day that he returned from his trip with the rangers, that Elrond told him that he needed to speak with him under four eyes. Curious, Aragorn followed his father into his study.

"Estel, I am glad that you are back, ion nin." Elrond smiled at his son, but there was worry in his eyes. "But I wish that you had returned a week later."

"Later? Why? Ada, what is it?" Aragorn did not miss the sad and at the same time worried undertone in his father's voice.

Elrond sighed, "A party from Mirkwood will arrive tomorrow. They have sent a runner ahead, so that we can make sure that all the preparations are finished."

Now Aragorn was truly confused. Why was a party from Mirkwood coming? And what preparations was his father talking about? Frowning, Aragorn gazed at his father, but then it hit him. Eyes widening, he asked softly, "They bring Lithdal to the havens, aren't they? They stop here on their way West."

Elrond nodded, "Aye. Thranduil send a letter two weeks ago so that we could prepare."

Aragorn nodded and sighed. He had not had any nightmares for at least a month, and he thought that he had overcome his fear of Lithdal, but that did not mean that he was keen on seeing the elf. He had just begun to heal properly; there was no need to jeopardize everything he had achieved so far. And on the other hand, he admitted grimly, he did not want to give Lithdal the satisfaction of seeing him again, if only for a moment. Lifting his head and gazing at his father, he resolutely stated, "I will be leaving tomorrow morning, at dawn."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

And that he did. But he did not go far. Aragorn stayed close to the valley, but far enough so that he would not cross the path of the party that would bring Lithdal to the Last Homely House. But when the day passed, Aragorn could not help the feeling that he needed to see Lithdal, if only one last time. He needed to make sure that the elf was not affecting him any longer. He needed to proof to himself, that he was stronger now than he had been only half a year ago. When the sun rose the next day, Aragorn made his way to the crossing at the Bruinen, knowing that the party would have to cross the river before it went further West.

Positioning himself behind some thick trees, wrapping himself in his dark cloak and concealing himself as best he could, Aragorn crouched down, and waited. It was already late morning when the sound of hooves reached his ears. A moment later, a large group of riders came into view. Four impressive Mirkwood warriors rode at the front, carrying tall spears and shiny swords. They were followed by four Rivendell guards, wearing black and silver. Behind them, flanked on either side by Rivendell and Mirkwood warriors, was Lithdal. Behind the elf rode another ten warriors from both elven realms.

When Aragorn saw Lithdal, his body tensed and his breath caught in his throat. The elf looked older, if that was possible. His shoulders were slumped and he seemed smaller somehow. But his eyes, Aragorn noticed, where as sharp as ever. Lithdal watched his surroundings carefully, as if he was expecting an attack…or as if he was trying to escape.

The group came closer, nearing the river. The first riders splashed into the water without hesitation. Lithdal's horse neared Aragorn's position, and the young man held his breath. His eyes never left Lithdal, and when the horse passed by his hiding place, Aragorn could see that the elf's hands were bound. So much for trying to escape. The horse passed him by and then reached the river. When the last rider had ridden past, Aragorn released the breath he had been holding. Gazing at the riders' retreating backs, he sighed in relief. Seeing Lithdal had affected him, sure, but not the way it had months ago. As it seemed, he was truly over what had happened to him.

Aragorn shot one last look at the riders. He could just make out Lithdal's retreating back. In that moment, the elf turned in his saddle and looked back over his shoulder. Aragorn froze, his eyes locking on Lithdal's. He felt caught, trapped, but a second later the riders vanished into the woods and Lithdal disappeared from view. Swallowing, Aragorn sighed and consciously relaxed his body. It was over. Lithdal was gone, and he had won over his fears. It was time to go home again. Getting to his feet, Aragorn turned and made his way back towards his family. Seeing the riders had done him good, but he was somewhat disappointed, too. Legolas, had not been with the riders from Mirkwood.

It was late afternoon when Aragorn walked across the bridge towards the courtyard of the Last Homely House. The sun was already shining red from above the tops of the trees, and the shadows had lengthened. Glad to be home before dark, Aragorn slowly made his way up the stairs. He never saw the lithe figure that stood in the shadows, watching him. Aragorn just reached for the door when a soft voice broke the silence, "Hello, Estel."

Aragorn froze, his hand hovering above the handle of the door. Turning around slowly, he squinted into the darkness. The figure came closer, and stepped into the light. "Legolas." A surprised smile tugged at Aragorn's lips. "You've come."

Legolas nodded, "I hoped that you would be here." Standing in the light of the sinking sun, Aragorn could see that Legolas was looking better than the last time he had seen him. His hair shone in the sun, and he seemed to have gained some weight.

"I am glad you are here, Legolas." And Aragorn meant his words. He made a step towards Legolas, and a moment later, they embraced each other tightly. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Estel." Legolas whispered into his ear. Exhaling, Aragorn rested his head against Legolas's strong shoulder. The elf placed his chin against Aragorn's hair, pressing a gentle kiss onto the dark locks. And in that moment, Aragorn knew that he never wanted to leave Legolas again. No matter what had happened between them, he loved Legolas, and he wanted for things to be as they once were. Suddenly he realized that the time apart had not healed him, but blunted the edges of pain. Now, seeing Legolas again, the hole in his chest filled with love and care, and he was complete once more. Finally, the pain was gone.

Breaking free form Legolas's arms, Aragorn gazed up into the oh so familiar face. Before he knew what he was doing, he brushed his lips and against Legolas's. It was their first kiss in many months, and it was tender, and shy and sweet.

"Why don't you come inside, Legolas? We could talk or just…enjoy some music in the Hall of Fire." Aragorn suggested, his eyes shining.

"I would love to talk." Legolas said, a warm smile lifting up the corners of his mouth. His eyes sparkled with suppressed joy, and his whole body seemed to relax.

Turning towards the door of the Last Homely House, Aragorn took hold of Legolas's hand, entwining their fingers and squeezing them gently. A huge wave of relief swept through Legolas. Smiling, Legolas followed his friend and lover into the house.

The end.

Well, yes this is the end. I hope you all liked the story! I was wondering whether you would like for me to write a sequel (yes, another one, haha). I have an idea for a new story, which would continue where this one ends. Are you interested? Please, I would love to know if you are willing to read another one of my little adventures. Reviews please!! (yes, I am not below begging shamelessly) :)

Furthermore I want to thank everyone who followed this story and especially the ones who took the time to review. My special thanks goes to Aralas, Esteltheone, Thorongirl, babygreeneyes, trustingfrndshp, estrid 2006, Sir Edwin, Gord and V and tmelange for the constant support and the sometime too hilarious reviews. Thanks guys!!


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